


Heart Prevails

by PeachyWoNiu



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Battle of the Hornburg | Battle of Helm's Deep, F/M, Pelennor Fields, Post-Battle of the Hornburg | Battle of Helm's Deep, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22218574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyWoNiu/pseuds/PeachyWoNiu
Summary: This was a story on my FanFiction account from years ago. I recently went back through it and ended up doubling the word count!...“Is that a compliment, my Lord?” I wondered, more to myself than him.The way he carried himself with such casual elegance, I found myself feeling familiar with him. I could ask these questions as though we were equals. It didn’t help that the alcohol still dulled my mind. I stiffened, realizing my mistake too late. The sound of his laughter however, quickly chased away any thoughts of repercussions of my impudence.Taking yet another step closer he answered, “I mean it as such.”To my utter astonishment, he reached up and caught a stray curl that escaped from my braid and twirled it between his fingers. He stared at it for a moment before looking directly into my eyes and saying in a low voice, “Call me Legolas.”...
Relationships: Legolas Greenleaf/Original Character(s)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 26





	1. Heart Prevails

Though bones be weary,

Though mind be spent,

Heart prevails,

Love is kept.

~O~

Despite the sun being high in the clear sky, a brisk autumn wind was blowing in off the high peaks to the east, tingeing the air with a bitter chill that reached through to the bones. Drawing my shawl closer around my shoulders, I glanced over to my Mother and brother, sitting close and milking the goat. As I saw them smiling, huddled together, I thought myself jealous of their close bond and easier task. But as quickly as that thought came, it went. Viorith was sickly. Ever since our youth I could only remember two times that he had been well. Back when we were small, I resented him for getting attention and seemingly more love from our parents. Now I knew better, and I was ashamed of myself because I wasn’t sure I could ever fully rid myself of those dark thoughts.

Sighing heavily, I turned back to the laborious task of chopping wood. Now that the frosts seemed to be coming early, we would need as much fuel for fires as possible. And father was always too busy in the fields to help. Wiping my brow in determination, I took a firmer grip of the axe haft and reared back. With as powerful a stroke as I could manage, I brought down the blunted blade and felt the tool shudder satisfyingly. The accompanying sound of wood cracking open rang out across the valley. I continued like this for quite some time, letting my mind get lost in daydreams and silly fantasies.

I imagined my village nestled between the rivers Entwash and Mering transformed. It was no longer in the East Fold of Rohan, but instead it was on Long Lake to the far east, and I stood looking over smoldering Lake Town as the great Dragon Smaug breathed fiery death from above. My legs struggled through sand as I helped frightened townspeople out of the frigid waters. A shriek of pain rent the smoky skies as the great wurm’s breast was pierced with the fabled Black Arrow. Wind tossed my hair about while I watched in awe as the creature fell. The sudden real smell of smoke brought me from my daydream. Blinking, I realized I had done nothing but stand in front of the wood for some time. Thinking of such legendary times made my heart full. I laughed thinking of the other children of the village only reluctantly agreeing to a reenactment with me. The reward of losing oneself in imagination did not hold the same importance with them as it did with me. Thankfully my brother never tired of it either.

Just as I was stooping down to pick up the split wood, I heard the unmistakable sound of the village militia’s horn. My gut clamped uncomfortably and the strong smell of something burning made sense. Only one thing could make those men sound the call in this area: orcs. All warmth drained from my face as I let the wood tumble from my arms back to the dried grass at my feet. Forcing myself to act in tandem with the present danger, I sprinted towards my family’s cottage, arms wheeling, and heart racing as I screamed wildly for my mother and brother. They burst from the front door just as I neared, looking equally as frightened. Mother was in the middle of haphazardly wrapping a number of blankets around my brother’s already quivering form. Her eyes were ablaze with terror as she ushered him and myself toward the nearby bank of the burbling river a few yards off.

“Where’s father?” Viorith squeaked, his voice thin as he glanced over his shoulder for me.

Mother’s eyes darted nervously at the distant sounds of screams growing louder by the second. Saliva accumulated rapidly but I swallowed back the threat of vomit in order to keep up with Mother’s blistering pace. She did not answer my brother, instead she continued pushing him closer to the river and worrying. I trailed after, still battling with the urge to cry and scream as the gravity of the situation made itself clear.

At the rocky bank, she gently led Viorith down by the hand to a small dirt overhang mostly obscured by the tall grasses and scraggly dead bushes that dotted the riverside. As she rearranged the blankets around him, she ordered me to go get mud as fast as I could. With nothing in hand but my own shawl, I sprinted down to the water, cast it into the water, and forcibly scooped as much muck into the worn wool as possible and tottered back to them. Working silently, she began coating me in the frigid grime, explaining that I would need to block Viorith’s scent from escaping and getting to the orcs by lying in front of him and masking him with that of the river. My joints were starting to ache with the cold. The adrenaline coursing through my veins thankfully warmed me enough to chase away the feeling for now. Mother shook my shoulder in a vice like grip, forcing me to look directly into her eyes. They asked me silently if I understood that mine and my brothers lives depended upon my actions. I nodded. I had to keep my family safe. Seeing this, my mother pressed her dirtied hand to my mud-covered cheek and smiled sadly.

“Come out for nothing, do you understand me?” she breathed, guiding me into place. Another scream cut through the village. She glanced panic stricken as the sound was sharply ended.

“Yes.” I answered shakily, locking eyes with Viorith as I settled down in front of him.

Peering back, I watched as the dying light caught in her graying strawberry blonde hair, making it look like it rippled with dying flames. I suddenly had a vision of what she must have looked like as a young woman, fresh from the great city of Minas Tirith where she had grown, and looking for adventure. My chest tightened at the sight. I gave her a resolute nod and turned my body into my brother’s, shielding him like I promised I would. No goodbyes passed between us, no last looks or tears, just the scrambling of her leather slippers against the crumbling dirt as she emerged onto the plane. Viorith trembled against me, and I held him close, burying my nose into his hair. It mirrored my own and very much resembled our mother’s.

Hours passed. The screams of faceless people grew louder and louder until I could feel their frantic footfall as they struggled to escape their impending deaths. I whispered to my brother, encouraging him to be quiet. And we waited. Waited until the cries had died out and the smell of smoke grew thick. Even then, we did not emerge from our hiding spot. I could feel the damp of the river soaking into my muck filled clothes, but still I did not move. I knew that the orcs remained; could hear them raucously celebrating their spilling of innocent blood. Those monsters stayed to pillage and revel in the destruction like the creatures of Mordor that they were. Viorith wished to expel all his anguish and fear by crying or shouting or both, but he knew our deaths would quickly follow and thusly kept quiet. More than that, I could tell that he would need a fire to warm his chilled body as soon as the area was safe again. It shook with, not just emotion, but the sickness, exacerbated by the cold and damp.

They left a few hours before sun up to scuttle back to some darker place. I crawled out first, squinting in the direction of the rising sun. As I gazed over fires to the edge of my village, I caught full sight of the devastation. Every home was nothing but charred framework. People, young and old, boy and girl, man and woman, lay strewn about. I could see the pools of blood intermingling to create a blanket of crimson across the dried grass. I went back and retrieved Viorith, holding him close to my side as we wandered through the smoldering remains. We found mother in the doorway of our cottage; her upper half burned beyond recognition. It seemed as though they’d caught her in the back with an axe as she’d tried to run inside. Father was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he had been one of the first to fall? The grain fields he worked were in the direction those monsters had come from.

We were not the only survivors. A little girl Elborinde, barely older than her fifth year, we discovered crammed into an overturned barrel that had somehow managed to avoid being engulfed in flames. A young man Aeriador propped himself up against a paddock fence that now guarded slaughtered cows, nursing a deep gash in his side. We all regrouped further away from the death and upwind from the billowing smoke before I muttered weakly, “I will…fetch some more food.”

Despite the chill breeze, I scavenged for whatever I could. I was the most able after all. It did not stop the unending tears from coursing down my face as I carefully picked my way around the dozens of still bodies. There was much for us to use, more blankets, enough for us all to bundle in twice over, and some vegetables from the untrampled corners of the gardens. We sat in stunned silence for the rest of the day, barely getting down anything into our nauseated bellies. Viorith cried for a time, but thankfully fell into a fitful sleep on my lap.

My mind turned to how I would take care of my brother, my twin, now that our parents were gone. If we managed to get help, I would need to get a job as a tavern hand or something to that effect. The feeling of my chest constricting painfully had me struggling to breathe, but I forced back the overwhelming anxiety. This situation was unfair and something I had hoped to never go through, but I was powerless to change that. Aeriador tried to catch my attention as I hurriedly wiped at the tear that escaped from my eye, but I stubbornly looked away. Instead, I focused on the top of Viorith’s tangled waves.

Midday had long passed by the time we saw horses on the horizon. A group of Rohiram came galloping in and explained that they’d seen the smoke and come as quickly as they could. Aeriador explained, with Elborinde clutching tightly to his trousers, that the orcs had moved on back to the east. It seemed that that didn’t come as much of a surprise to the horsemen. Their aim had been to cause mayhem. A brief thought crossed my mind. I realized that this seemed commonplace to them, as if they'd seen attacks like this before. It wasn't enough of a revelation to puncture the numbed state my mind had fallen into.

Two stayed back to escort us to the nearest village while the others went in pursuit of the orcs that had done this to us. For the rest of the night, the two warriors cobbled together a makeshift cart for the sick and injured that the horses would tow. I spent my time redressing Aeriador’s wounds, soothing Elborinde who kept waking from night terrors, and caring for my brother whose health had taken a very bad turn. One of the men asked if I wished for a chance at sleep, offering his services to me. But I politely declined. After all, they needed enough rest to escort us to safety. I also trusted no one but myself to give my brother the attention he needed. But more than that, I knew that if I were to let sleep claim me, I would be lost to the horrors waiting in the back of my mind.

It took us the next three days to make it to the heart of Rohan. Edoras, the grand capital. Humble compared to Minas Tirith in Gondor, but still an important settlement of men. As we crossed the threshold of the main gate, I shakily cried out for the help of a healer. Only a few fretful hours of sleep had sustained me, and I was beside myself. Viorith would not respond to my touch or voice, he merely remained lost in his fever, sweat dripping from his cold skin. Aeriador held me back as they hurriedly took him off. I wept into his arms and let him lead me.

One soldier removed his helm while the other took their horses to be brushed down, and guided us towards the lower end where the barracks were located. I do not remember much of that journey down the hill. All I could think of was Viorith. If I lost him now after everything, I would be broken. Aeriador draped his arm over my shoulders and held me close to his side as we sat in the narrow entrance hall. After some time, I rubbed at my red, swollen eyes. They hurt and I no longer had tears left to shed. Looking up at the stained wood on the walls, I caught sight of Elborinde’s long dark hair tangled and falling over her downturned face. She looked so small, knees to her chest and staring blankly at nothing. I had nearly forgotten she was there. I suddenly remembered a night when I was no older than Elborinde was now. I sat in similar fashion frightened that mother would not be able to coax Viorith back from the brink of death. She sent me out of the room when I could not cease from crying and I felt so alone. My father came to me. He being of little words, merely tucked me up into his arms and held me close.

Disappointment in myself shook away the panicked thoughts that had blinded me. I slipped from the low bench and crawled to the small girl. She barely acknowledged my presence. But I pulled her in tight all the same, like my father had for me long ago, and began praying as hard as I could that my brother would be alright.

Hours passed like days. I felt as though my stomach was trying to push its way up my throat, I was so sick. It worsened as the small healer was led to the three of us by the same soldier from earlier. Sweat dripped from his balding brow but he smiled softly and said, “Your brother is out of danger for now. It will take time, but I believe he may yet live.”

I could finally breathe once more. Aeriador gripped my shoulder, spun me around and pulled me in for an embrace. Tears of joy fell as I laughed. Overcome with joy I ended up wrapping both the healer and the soldier in my arms as thanks. We were then led to the healing house to visit him and be looked over as well. I waved them away from me though. The lack of sleep was the only ill I suffered from. While Aeriador and Elborinde were being looked after, I found Viorith and held his hand in my own. It was still warm with fever, but his face no longer looked pallid. I rested my head on his gently rising chest and shut my eyes. Exhaustion quickly dragged me into a fitful sleep.

Elborinde’s small hand loosely clutched at my fingers as we stood in front of the only two-story building in the lower end. It was still small, and built into the side of the hill with a sizeable garden coming off the side. This was the children's home for orphans. I had been told that Elborinde would be eagerly taken in by the spinster woman that ran it by the name of Marthay. I swallowed hard, going over once again what I planned on asking of her.

My brother and I were in a precarious position now that our home and any means of making our living had been razed to the ground. Viorith was too frail to work, and I was only a woman with my only hope being to work for the stables. In exchange perhaps I would get a wage and lodgings in one of the stalls with the horses. And that was just for me. The coin I made wouldn't be enough to secure a home. Aeriador told me that he was to join the ranks of the soldiers once he was fully healed. He offered his own coin to help, but I knew his starting wages would not be enough for both Viorith and I.

I would ask Marthay, while I gave Elborinde into her care, if there was any way I could exchange work for lodgings for my sickly brother. I took in a shaking breath and led the way through the door into the main room. The bottom floor was large enough to fit a healthy sized kitchen, a long dining table, a small sitting room with a crackling fireplace, and a narrow staircase which presumably led up to where the bedrooms were.

The sound of dozens of little voices hushed as we entered. It appeared that we had interrupted midday meal. My own stomach growled as I remembered I had not eaten since the morning. Forcing my eyes to turn from the steaming bowl of grain and eggs, I caught sight of the only other adult in the room. She was taller than I had expected, dwarfing me by half a foot. Thick brown hair streaked with white was piled in a messy bun at the back of her head. She wiped her thick-jointed fingers on her apron and smiled warmly, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

She limped around the table toward us and asked, “My now, fresh faces! Who might you be my dears?”

I could see her looking between the two of us trying to hide her questioning glance. I squeezed Elborinde’s hand in mine and replied, “This is Elborinde daughter of Elbor and Faunhinde, and I am Valene daughter of Vangor and Renlith.”

The woman nodded acceptingly and said with a wink, “You may call me Marthay, dear ones.”

I worried what might be thought of Elborinde's silence. She had yet to utter a word. But Marthay beckoned her closer regardless. The other children watched silently as she slowly crept toward their caretaker.

“Oh but you barely have any meat on your bones!” The woman cried as she pat Elborinde's arm. “Sit, sit, sit! Have a bowl! The both of you.”

We did as we were told and sat at one of the far ends of the table. I struggled not to stuff every bite I could into my face. The woman laughed and commented, “Heard a might-bit about you and yours from the ladies across the way...terrible what happened.”

Swallowing the egg, grain and zucchini, I nodded solemnly. Marthay’s eyes filled with sadness as she watched Elborinde pick at her bowl blankly.

“Poor creatures...too young, the lot of you.”

I set my spoon down, and asked seriously, “Elborinde has a place here with you, then?”

“Of course!” She replied with a slight tinge of surprise.

“There are many children under your care here...” I muttered, fidgeting with a broken nail as I quickly formulated the words in my head. “If you were interested in some assistance, I am well practiced in household chores. I could also help with the children if you would be willing to lodge my brother-”

Her loud laughter cut off my hurried speech like a bark from a dog. I started and looked up to see the amusement in her eyes. For one awful second I was afraid she would refuse, but then she took up my hand comfortingly. Leaning in slightly she muttered, “Age has found me these last few years. Some help around the house would be most welcome. You and your brother will be wonderful new additions!”

I was utterly stunned. I could see in her eyes that she knew about how ill Viorith was, and yet she still said he could stay. Tears threatened to fall as I struggled to keep my composure. An immense weight had been taken off my shoulders.

I went to work right away, preparing for when Viorith was well enough to be moved. Finally, for the first time in weeks it felt like there was a glimmer of hope to be had.

Many months passed. Once healed, Aeriador left to join the ranks of the brave soldiers of Edoras. He still comes by when he can, looking more and more hollowed as horror after horror crosses his path. Elborinde was never the same. Not one word has passed her lips, nor one emotion flickered into her large green eyes. Some days I still feel guilty that I was not there for her more those first few days after arriving in Edoras.

Viorith still struggles with the path to recovery. Much still tires him, and his lungs are too weak for anything more than taking a turn or two around the small garden out back. But we try. As for myself, I do what I can. It has been difficult to find time alone, but a part of me is grateful for the distraction even now. Occasionally my brother seems as if he wants to revisit that day and speak with me at length about it. I can see the hurt in his eyes, and I feel endlessly guilty shrugging him off. He would not understand why I do this. But I am afraid of falling into the sadness that always lingers at the back of my mind. If I started to mourn all that we have lost, then I would be unable to say if I could bring myself out of it.


	2. Sweet Elborinde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a tragic loss, our heroine meets an influential Lady and is offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Six years passed like a kaleidoscopic haze; filled with a mixture of happiness and heartbreak. The constant flux never ended. And now that time had matured me, I could handle such trials. My brother struggled for some years to regain his strength that he had lost that fateful night. And unfortunately, a year previous in 3017, he grew ill once more. To my delight he did not take his bed rest as poorly as he had in the past. In fact, he seemed optimistic, which gave my heart a sense of peace.

We had been able to speak of what happened to our village after the wounds not visible to the naked eye had healed over and been replaced with scarring. Once the outpouring of emotions had subsided, both of us were able to put it behind us, and now rarely speak of the matter. We came to the mutual agreement that now what mattered was not letting the past haunt us.

As time progressed, I grew increasingly worried (as did the rest of Rohan) about the frequency of Orc raids in the far vale. More and more villages burned closer and closer to the capital. Prince Theodred was pressed to take battalions of Rohirram for more patrols. But what really drove the people of Edoras into the dark clutches of fear was the dwindling presence of our King. More often we saw Eomer accompanying Theodred to make visits to the outer reaches. In the streets, Eowyn became a familiar face. Many easily hid their misgivings about the King’s absences behind their love for his ward, a more beautiful and caring young woman than any other in our lands. His nephew, Eomer, (the very soldier that cared for our initial well-being in the city) was strong and dependable. I too found myself cooing with Marthay over him, as we darned socks. But it did not erase the unease that lurked closely beneath the surface.

All of that had been tucked away in my mind however, as I dipped a cloth in a bowl of chilled water and wrung it. Glancing down to the waifish body shivering under the covers in a cold sweat. A wet wheeze escaped her lungs in sleep. I felt my eyes moisten with despair and bit my lip to hold it back. Sweet Elborinde, now on the cusp of becoming a young woman, who still had not uttered a single sound since our village had been raided by orcs, had suddenly come down with a fever two nights before, which had escalated quickly and travelled to her lungs. If she could make it through this next night though, then the danger would pass. Reverently, I placed the fresh cloth against her burning skin and dabbed away the perspiration. Speaking low and soft, I spoke of the other children, and stories my mother told to me as a child.

It pained me to pull myself away, but the leg and hip pains were too unbearable for Marthay at the moment and the children needed to be called in for supper. Wiping my hands on my working apron, I stood and briskly strode down the narrow hallway to the main room of the small stone house, wiping at my cheeks as I went. Immediately the unmistakable smell of fresh stew filled my nostrils, reminding me that my midday meal had been forgotten. Ducking my head around the corner to where Marthay sat with some of the youngest, I saw that she absently massaged her swollen joints as she dutifully guided their young minds through a brief history of the Kings of Rohan. Trying not to distract, I slipped out into the garden to where the older children were busily tending the meager vegetable and fruit plants.

Clapping my hands together, I called out, “Alright, children, everyone inside. Wash your hands.”

Catching boy by his elbow as he tried to rush by without my noticing, I asked, “Be a good lad and set the table?”

Nodding begrudgingly, he uttered a small sound of acceptance. I released him and watched as he playfully elbowed his way past the other boys into the house. As the group filed in, I glanced over their heads to the dirt path that led up the hill spotting the horses descending from the stables towards Edoras’ gates. Trotting down with two companies behind them were Prince Theodred and Eomer. Another scouting party? I asked myself silently, swallowing back the anxiety bubbling up from my stomach.

When the procession came by the small garden, I curtsied deeply. Both nodded in my direction and continued on with their men. I waited until after they had passed out of sight before finally going inside. I wished them well silently.

Small voices created a loud buzz as I stepped back in, reminding me of the hives that were kept close to the growing fields for honey. Pealing laughter and childish arguments became clearer as I moved to the kitchen to begin serving. I worked quickly, my mind beginning to cloud over with many a worry. Taking a bowl over to Marthay, I waited patiently while she placed the newest addition to our diverse family in his crib.

Patting my forearm gently, she smiled and said, “Bless you, child.”

Despite seeing the concern in her eyes, I returned her smile as best I could and excused myself with the last two bowls in my hands. Turning into the room shared by older boys I called in a sing-song voice, “Supper for you!”

“And here I was beginning to think you wanted me to starve!” My brother answered, grinning and pushing himself eagerly into a sitting position.

I smiled warmly and rushed to his side, saying, “Do not move so readily brother! You are weak still!”  
He merely grimaced and took my hand in his as I sat by his side, scoffing, “You worry yourself too much sister.”  
But he indulged me and sank back against his pillows. Satisfied with this, I handed him his food and watched as he wolfed down the stew heartily. I commented over his slurps, “You do appear to be on the mend…I am glad.”

Once finished, I took up his bowl and headed to the door, promising to return to quiet down the boys before bedtime. Before I could make it two steps however, he asked in an uncharacteristically serious tone, “How is Elborinde…?”  
I grew still, face and hands draining of warmth as I was reminded of her precarious state. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. He continued softly, “Will she make it through the night?”  
I turned and fixed my eyes on his. The tears were there, but I refused to let them fall. I replied thickly, “She may not…”

He was thinking what I was thinking, I could see it on his face: Elborinde had been one of the survivors. It seemed unfair that such a tragic life might be cut short. Neither of us could bear the thought of losing her, especially not now when she had grown and began letting go of the past. Wiping angrily at his eyes, he took in a shaking breath and muttered, “You must tend to her, then…”

I lingered for a moment longer, wondering if I should comfort him. But knowing myself I knew that would only upset me further and I would be unable to face the rest of the night. Turning, I exited and swept down the hall with the last bowl of stew to the last door. This room I normally shared with Marthay, but lately she had taken to sleeping in her armchair by the fire. It seemed to help her joints. So I had been using her vacant spot as a sick bed. Steeling myself, I swallowed heavily and took the meal to Elborinde’s side.

The cloth had been tossed aside in her sleep, sweat drenched her skin, and the covers had been kicked away. Setting the bowl down, I carefully adjusted the pillows behind her head so she would not choke on the food, tucked the blankets close to her chin, and re-wetted the cloth. Dabbing gently, I whispered, “Time to eat, little one…”

She moaned and protested to the movements, barely able to open her eyes a crack to look at me. Eventually I slipped a hand behind the base of her neck and began spoon feeding her broth little by little. It was hard for her to swallow. She ended up only eating less than half of what I wanted and grew upset when I tried forcing more on her. In an effort to make me leave her, her weak hand struck out, knocking the bowl from my unsuspecting grasp to the ground. The contents splattered across the worn wood, but she cared not. A fit of wet coughs wracked her little frame. Keeping my face calm, I quickly went to her and held her upright so she could attempt to clear her airway. I cleaned the mess only after she collapsed back onto the pillows.

Despite my effort, hot tears raced down my cheeks as I gave her cloth one last moistening. Thankfully she was unable to notice. Telling her faintly that I would be back, I rushed out and closed the door, leaning back against it heavily. It took me a number of minutes before I was able to regain my composure.

Still trying to keep my face as devoid of grief as possible I assigned children to dish duty. But I was quickly losing grip on my emotions. Every fresh, rose-cheeked face began looking like hers, and in the back of my mind they twisted and decayed. A sudden wave of nausea roiled up. Clutching a hand to my mouth, I bolted for the back door. My announcement for fresh air came out muffled and more than likely unclear. Marthay looked openly worried as the door swung shut behind me.

My fingers clutched the rickety fence that enclosed the garden as I coughed up the last of the hot bile. My throat burned as sharp, shallow breaths made my eyes water with the effort of holding back the great desire to weep. I staggered back from my pile of sick and finally let my agony bubble up from my chest. All that kept invading my thoughts were flashes of the few days when our village was wiped from existence; how scared I’d been. The tears seemed unending as I strode over to our small shed, snatched up a trowel and fell to my knees next to the beet patch. I stabbed at the ground angrily, silently asking ‘why her?’, over and over again. Indignantly, I ripped the malnourished vegetables from the dry earth. My despair in that moment felt like it would consume me, and I knew not how to abate it.

And perhaps it was a combination of my inability to accept even the faintest thought of her passing and the fact that I still had not brushed the tears from my eyes, but my vision blurred. A strangled cry escaped my throat as the edge of the trowel came down on the hand holding me up, the roughly carved wood dug into the soft flesh between my thumb and pointer finger. The pain the blade left radiated out to the tips of my fingers and down my wrist. I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort to not be so loud as to frighten the children inside. The sunset was just coming to its close as I clutched my bleeding hand to my chest. Everything was cast in a warm glow. Peering at the mangled flesh, I rationalized that I had no excuse for this accident. This was my doing. I was acting like a child throwing a fit over something I had no control over.

Holding the injury close, I wiped my dripping nose on the rolled-up sleeve of my tattered dress and made to turn and head inside to seek care in defeat. I stilled when I saw the pair of eyes staring at me from across the way. Faerda, the old widow that spun exquisite yarn, stood hunched near her front doorway, the light wind catching her white flyaway strands of hair and sending them into her eyes. Next to her, tall and stunning was none other than Lady Eowyn. Their lips moved as they continued watching me, but I was unable to hear their words. Setting my lips into a tight line of embarrassment, I spun and dashed out of sight.

Gathering my wits inside the doorway, I quickly wiped away the wet streaks from my cheeks and silently made my way back to where Marthay kept emergency herbs and remedies, careful to make sure no one caught sight of the blood dripping from the gash. After so many years of taking care of accident-prone children, she had grown accustomed to being well prepared.

I did the best I could to staunch the flow on my own. The children were just beginning to prepare themselves for bed. It would only be a few minutes before I could approach the orphanage’s house mother for help without disrupting the calm children. If I caused a scene with all the blood, they'd be up for some time yet, keeping me from Elborinde's side even longer. Most were already skittish with her being so severely ill. So, I waited.

Finally, the house was growing quiet. And of course, Marthay was beside herself after seeing what I had done. Chastising me with only half her usual gusto, she set about making a paste and bandage. Clucking her tongue for what seemed to be the hundredth time, she glanced away from her work to study me.

“Look at you...thin as a sheet on the wind,” she tutted, displeased. “Been workin’ yourself to the bone, you have.”

I didn't reply.

She cast a look my way before sighing heavily. The topic of conversation swung down an even darker path as she asked how Elborinde’s health was now that her fever was soon to be at the breaking point. Rubbing at a blemish on the side of my head, I struggled to come up with an answer that would soften the blow of the young one’s inevitable passing.

“I will make her as comfortable as I can, and stay with her throughout the night.” I mumbled finally. My caretaker’s eyes glimmered with sadness in the firelight. As she finished securing the bandage, she reached out and placed a heavy hand upon my shoulder.

“Eat before you go,” she ordered softly, falling back into the cushions of her chair. Casting her eyes to the flames, she fell into a thoughtful state. I did as I was told.

Elborinde’s breathing became more labored as the night progressed. The sound of mucus rattling in her chest was nearly unbearable to listen to. But I stayed by her side throughout the night, singing occasionally and holding her tightly in my arms. Shortly before the morning sun was to break over the mountains, her chest finally stilled. I sat in utter silence, listening to the quiet house as I smoothed her thin dark hair from her damp forehead. For a few minutes I allowed myself to mourn quietly.

When I was spent, I stood numbly, placed her delicately under her covers and went to fetch the grave digger and his son. They obliged me, quickly riding out to the burial site to prepare her resting place. Menowic, the kindly father of the household, informed me that they’d be back to fetch her body when they were finished and to...prepare her for eternity. I nodded mutely and stepped back into the house, deftly sitting at the table. A few moments later, I heard someone come down the stairs behind me.

  
  


My brother’s soft voice asked in a cracked whisper, “Elborinde’s bed is empty…did…did she…?”  
I pressed a hand to my lips in an effort to prevent myself from crying out. Biting the inside of my cheek, I confirmed his unspoken question silently with a nod. There was a pause, his footsteps shuffling closer, and then his arms wrapped around me from behind. Our cheeks pressed together, and tears ran as one as he whispered, “We will go together…you, me, and Aeriador.”  
The last of our village. Brought together once more by tragedy. Hurriedly, I wiped my tears and slipped from Viorith’s grasp. Hugging him quickly I informed him that Menowic would be by with his son likely sometime after breakfast, and that in between that time I would need to get food ready and head to the barracks to find Aeriador.

“No, sister,” he interrupted, holding fast to my arm before I could make a dash out the door. “Help rouse the children from their dreams, and Marthay and I can prepare the meal in the meantime. I cannot say I will have the energy to make it to the barracks and the funeral in one day, or I would offer to substitute you there as well.”

I smiled appreciatively and pulled him in for another embrace. Marthay awoke quickly when I shook her. It seemed that perhaps her usual restful place by the fire had been plagued with thoughts of Elborinde. While she and Viorith set about chopping nuts and berries to put into the porridge, I went back and sounded the morning call. Quite a large chunk of time was spent here, corralling the children. But thankfully they were kept oblivious to the sad news.

Not wanting to call attention to my leaving, I merely waved to Marthay and Viorith as I backed out of the rickety front door. Wrapping my shawl firmly around my shoulders as a brisk eastern wind swept through the valley, I trudged off down the hill. Near the gate on the south easterly side of Edoras was a small barracks that housed many resting Rohirram. Aeriador had been by the orphanage not but a week previous when his company had returned from a scouting mission. He and Elborinde had played hide and seek with some of the other girls and boys at great length. Once again, my thoughts turned bitter thinking that she had been just fine then, and now…

Clearing my throat, I knocked on the door and waited patiently. The small metal slat opened and a pair of tired eyes peered down at me warily as a gruff voice asked, “What’s it want…?”

“I am requesting Aeriador son of Aeriam,” I called over the whistling wind. “Family…family has passed.”

The eyes softened as he muttered, “Didn’ realize he still had family…”

The comment was rhetorical, as he shuttered the metal slat abruptly. I could hear shuffling footfall recede from the other side. A while later Aeriador emerged. His honey brown curls were disheveled, as if sleep hadn't quite given up its hold on him yet, but his eyes were awake and alert with worry. Rubbing at the shadow of stubble on his jaw, he asked quietly, “Elborinde…?”

I had told him she had fallen ill when I relegated her to bed rest. I had not had the time to keep him further updated since then. Hanging my head, I replied thickly, “Yes…”

A long, slow breath escaped as his hands went up into his hair. He stepped back from me as the emotions hit hard. She had been as a sister to him. Nearly every penny he made went into making her happy. Guilt stabbed into my heart as I watched the news tear him apart on the inside. Placing a hand on his arm, I whispered, “I'm so sorry.”

Despair disfigured his face as he fought to keep from crying out in anguish. I could read his expressions easily enough. She had been getting better; finally. He had even said as much to me before her illness. After all this time in silence, she had begun to play and overcome the horrors in her memories. Life was beginning anew until cruel fate came and snatched her away.

Not sure what more I could do for him in this moment, I turned to leave and mumbled softly, “We go to her grave soon...will you-”

Before I could finish, the dam holding back his emotions finally broke. A broken sob shuddered through his tall frame as he suddenly wrapped me up in his long arms against his heaving chest. My eyes widened at the feeling of tears falling onto the bare skin at my collarbone as he buried his head in the crook of my neck. Despite his cries being muffled, it still seemed as though they rang out in the still morning air. My hands came up from my side and rubbed circles in his back. I held him up while he mourned.

Not long passed. Long enough however for him to feel able enough to hold his own. Wiping at now reddened eyes with the back of his hand he snuffled, “Lead, Valene, I fear I am unable to see the path at present…”

Nodding in understanding, I looped my arm through his and took him through the city in silence. When we arrived Marthay and Viorith stood at the front, looking grim alongside Menowic. His son (that held a remarkable likeness to the gangly grave digger), as well as his cart and mule remained close by. And in the back of the plain wagon was a small, human sized bundle carefully wrapped in white linen and brown roughspun chord. I felt my stomach clench at the sight.

Aeriador stiffened as his eyes fell upon her corpse. But his step did not falter. Clenching his jaw tightly, he made to greet Viorith in a firm embrace. There was no use for words between them. What could you say to the loss of family? Marthay took her turn and stood briefly on her toes so as to place a chaste kiss against his weathered cheek and cried, “Just terrible…! The poor dear…”

“Thank you, Madam,” he muttered, giving her hand a small squeeze.

I turned to the grave digger and gave him the signal to begin the journey across the plains to the common people’s burial lands. Shortly after, the three of us set out with the gravediggers toward the gates of Edoras. The dawn sky was waning as we took the narrow path to the east. The dusky pink that lingered in the wispy clouds faded quickly. I gazed up and felt my eyes burn both from the brisk mountain wind, and the thought that such a beautiful day greeted a death such as Elborinde’s. Waves of sadness assaulted me. It seemed as if everything triggered my heart into spasms of pain; the prickly grass under our feet, the grey earth, or even the purple mountains in the distance. Elborinde lived with all these things only hours before, and now she was gone to join the Gods and all our ancestors before us. I let fresh tears fall. Two hands in tandem, reached out and took up mine. The last three existing from our village. That’s what we were.

Out of the gates we turned south and west toward the mountains, following the well-worn trail through the scrub grass. The walk went by in a blur of tears. It was hard to watch Menowic and his son lifting up her limp body. It was even harder watching them place her gently at the bottom of the grave. I shut my eyes and looked away. Viorith pulled me into his shoulder, biting his lip and Aeriador sobbed quietly into his hands. As Menowic helped his son up out of the hole, he paused as he saw something behind our small group. Viorith was the one to turn and look for himself. And when he did, he shook my shoulder.

“Sister, look. The Prince!”

I lifted my heavy head and turned to the grasslands behind us. He was right. Coming toward us on magnificent steeds looked to be Prince Theodred, and a small guard. No, not a guard, but his cousins Eomer and Eowyn. As they drew closer, I could make out the Lady’s unmistakable golden hair billowing out behind her. It looked like pale sunlight glinting around her shoulders. They rode up, a look of deep sadness on each of their faces. The Prince was the first to dismount.

Holding onto his horse’s reins, he bowed slightly and explained, “I was informed that tragedy had struck the orphanage.”

“That is...that is correct, your grace.” Aeriador answered. “Young Elborinde of the orphan house…”

“Then allow me to offer my deepest condolences,” Theodred continued.

Eomer dismounted and stepped up, looking to the grave and back to the three of us and asked softly, “Were you kin?”

I glanced to Aeriador who had grown quiet again, unable to work through the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. I nodded and answered, “His sister.”

Aeriador’s eyes widened for a moment as he looked to me, but softened as new tears fell. He did not argue. She truly had become his sister, he couldn’t deny. And that made this goodbye all the harder. Lord Eomer nodded in understanding and went to stand next to Aeriador, placing his hand on the younger’s hunched shoulder in a silent sign of respect. Lady Eowyn now came forward, her own eyes straining to hold back sympathetic tears. She did not speak, but I could feel her wondering silently why this had to happen to a child. Did she keep tabs on us after seeing me in the garden yesterday? Almost in answer, she came to my side and took up my arm and held the bandaged hand close to her side.

We stood in silence for a few minutes, praying and saying individual farewells before Menowic stepped up with shovel in hand. Viorith was the first to take it up from him, stepping over to the corner of the grave and shoveling in a small portion of dirt. Giving Lady Eowyn a quick appreciative look, I slipped from her grasp and went to take up the mantle next. I noticed when I took it from him that Viorith’s hands were ice cold and trembled. A pang of fear shot through me. If he got sick...but the look on his face told me not to make a fuss now. I gently pushed the next shovelful of dirt in without a word and solemnly handed the shovel off to Aeriador. For a moment, as he stood over her body below, he grew still. I saw his eyes flick down to Elborinde’s small body gradually being engulfed by dirt and rock. A brief flash of panic went through him, and I made to start toward him, but was cut off as someone else beat me to it. Prince Theodred went to his side, reached out, and took the shovel away.

My heart broke as a wail of anguish rent the air. Aeriador dropped to his knees as Theodred spread the last ceremonial shovel full. The Prince, looking like he wished he could change fate, ushered a weeping Aeriador back from what would be the even more traumatic filling of the grave. I took my place next to my brother, slipping the shawl from my shoulders and putting it around him. I could see he wanted to refuse, but I merely shook my head. I had no wish to argue at this moment.

As the sounds of shoveling echoed out across the plains, I swallowed and began the ceremonial burial song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I posted two chapters at once because I got confused about how this website worked. I wanted it to show the total number of chapters (since they're all done). My little sister helped me out. Happy days to all! <3


	3. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the loss of one of their own, Lady Eowyn offers Valene an opportunity.

~o~

It was quiet, save for the sound of muffled footsteps, the creaking of the funeral master’s cart, and the horses. Menowic was kind enough to let my brother sit next to his son on the way back up to Edoras while he stayed behind to finish. Viorith would not admit it, but he was looking pale and unwell. It was only after the Lady Eowyn finally spoke and said, “Do not fear, I will keep her company on the walk back.” that he agreed. Aeriador would not move from his spot next to Elborinde’s grave. I suspected that he would stay there until every last rock was placed. The Prince and Lord Eomer remained with him, holding vigilance; something that they had no obligation to do.

“You help care for the orphaned…?”

Lady Eowyn’s sudden question startled me. I looked up and was met with her steely eyes watching me intently. I dropped my gaze once again and answered, “Yes my lady.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her nod almost as if to herself as she turned her attention to the path ahead. She was quite beautiful. Of course, I’d seen her before, but never this close. Her skin looked as soft and white as moth wings, and her long flaxen hair smelled of wild flowers. Feeling embarrassed that I’d just been staring at royalty, I turned and studied my brother’s posture in the cart, and saw him looking even more hunched than before. A bad sign. As soon as we reached the orphanage, I would need to get him straight into bed.

“Thank you, my lady,” I said tentatively. She looked to me; her brows creased in question. “For convincing my brother to rest. The strength he carries within is unable to withstand outside his body I’m afraid.”

“I see...it must be difficult.” she replied, casting her eyes up at him in thought.

I nodded absently.

She seemed to mull something over in her mind as we neared the gates. I thought perhaps it had something to do with Edoras or the lands of Rohan, but as we came upon the road that would take her to the Golden Hall where her Uncle King Theoden undoubtedly sat on his throne, she turned to me.

“The people of Edoras are in need...and the King is preoccupied with other matters in Rohan...I feel it is my duty to do something, even if it is small. I wish to help the people.”

Such a sudden confession had me utterly surprised and confused. I could only stare up at her with my mouth open like some simpleton. But she did not need me to speak. She continued impassioned, “I shall enlist the aid of others in the care of the little ones. I will also partition a section of the growing fields for the orphanage’s strict use. Hopefully that will lessen some burdens…”

I was utterly taken aback. Words failed me, so I did all that I could think to do, which was bow low before her. But it was as if she didn’t notice. She muttered distractedly, lost in her thoughts, “That would only help for a small part of the year. When the frost and snows come, it must be difficult to find the means to purchase supplies, especially for so many.”

“We...we manage, my lady. The children make many diverse items that we sell, use, or trade.”

She stopped altogether and looked directly into my eyes. At first, I thought I’d spoken out of turn and was about to apologize. But then, after searching my eyes for a moment she asked, “You seem trustworthy and kind. If I were to offer you a monetary solution, I trust that you would be honest and give a portion of the proceeds to the children?”

I stood frozen, unable to figure out what she was trying to say.

“I would enlist you as my handmaiden, and pay you with coin and supplies each few weeks.” she said, never breaking eye contact with me. This was no joke, I could tell. She was more than utterly serious. After seeing Elborinde she must have felt the need to do something for the orphans.

Despite this being an amazing opportunity, my selfish thoughts of my brother caused words to spill from my mouth faster than I could properly process, “My Lady, I am extremely grateful for such an offer. I am truly an unworthy recipient...but my brother’s health is precarious. We have never been apart and I do not know how he would handle my lengthy absence.”

She smiled softly, a bit of the excitement dying from her eyes, making me feel horrible. Squeezing my hand in her own she said, “Of course...I would not separate you if that is not what you wish. I will still provide as much help as I can to the children. But, if you change your mind, send word to me.”

I blushed deep crimson in embarrassment. Me, a lowly commoner, had just had the audacity to say ‘no’ to the King’s niece.

Shortly thereafter I bade goodbye and watched as she led her horse to the stables. I could feel my gut twisting uncomfortably at the thought that I’d just done something I would regret. But I couldn’t help it. Viorith was everything to me. I’d spent so much of my life thinking about his well-being that I couldn’t break away from it. I inhaled deeply, and headed through the streets of Edoras to the orphanage. When I entered through the rickety doorway, it was to the smell of Marthay’s cooking and the sound of the children cleaning their morning dishes. She looked up and smiled sadly.

“Where’s Viorith?” I asked, not seeing him.

“The lad went up to his room a bit ago, poor dear, teeth chattering like mad.”

I thanked her and immediately headed for the stairs. I opened the door to his room quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he were sleeping. But to my surprise, I saw that he seemed quite awake, and well aside from being a little pale. He was sitting up, propped against his pillows and still wrapped in my shawl.

“What took you so long?” he chided playfully.

“So sorry,” I laughed. “Must have lost track of the time.”

He unfolded his arms and patted the spot on the bed next to him. As I sat, he scolded, “Too important for us common folk is more like, speaking with Lady Eowyn as if you were the best of friends!”

I choked on air and spluttered, “That’s not-!”

His wolfish grin stopped me from embarrassing myself too much. I tsked at him as I gave his shoulder a light shove. He laughed jovially and said, “She is quite beautiful, wouldn’t you say?”

“Indeed!” I exclaimed in astonishment at his boldness. “Don’t tell me I’ll have to keep an eye on you my dear brother? I’ll remind you that my skills with a sword won’t be enough to stop the royal guard.”

He raised a suggestive brow in response. We spent a while laughing and heckling each other until he finally asked in all seriousness, “So what did you and she speak of?”

I glanced from him to a spot on my stained dress and said in a small voice, “She spoke of making improvements to Rohan. She offered help for the orphanage, and...me a position as her handmaiden.”

“But that’s wonderful!” he exclaimed. “From your tone, one would think she had condemned us to death!”

Now ashamed to tell him, I muttered, “I...I refused her.”

I expected him to be upset with me, but I did not expect the ferociousness in his voice, “Fool of a sister!”

I could not look at him.

“Is this because of me? I will not allow you to remain trapped at my side forever and sacrifice such an opportunity as this!”

Fresh tears began to fall from my eyes and I got lost in thinking of Elborinde and how much her loss hurt. I did not want to feel that grief with my own brother. I couldn’t. Especially because I knew I would think of his passing as being my fault because I wasn’t there for him. And as he watched me sob, Viorith understood. He leant forward and wrapped his arms around my trembling shoulders. He held me for a time before whispering, “You need not worry about me. You deserve the opportunity to live a life aside from my sickbed. Send word to her swiftly before her mind is changed.”

I pulled away and rubbed at my now swollen eyes. So many tears had been shed the last two days. He brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the trail left there. Taking it in my own I asked urgently, “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that you won’t try to be strong when you are not? Before I can send word to her, I have to hear you say it.”

He grew still and quiet. He knew as well as I that his stubborn streak was what always plagued his recovery and my mind. I could not in good conscience leave his side without his word telling me that he would take care of his body. It was a moment before he whispered, “As you wish...I swear to you.”

I ate breakfast with him before heading up to the Golden Hall. Nerves were starting to get the better of me. Excuses about why I absolutely needed to turn back kept running through my mind. But I couldn't. I had never seen Viorith look so angry before and to be honest, I never wanted to see him look like that again. Not that I was afraid of him, more like it was so out of character that it felt wrong of me to make him feel so strongly. I took the stone steps slowly, my ears suddenly taking in every sound and amplifying them. The banners snapping on the wind, the horses in the stables, and the royal guard patrolling the vicinity. In all my time in Edoras, I had never once been so close to the great hall. Standing this near I felt very intimidated.

The guards waiting outside the front double doors seemed to notice my hesitation, and were kind enough to use gentle voices as they ordered me to state my business. Licking my lips I mumbled that I was here to see the Lady Eowyn. They shared a surprised look before having me wait to the side while my presence was announced. I fiddled nervously with the frayed edges of my shawl as I wondered if she would even see me. Surely, she had changed her mind after my brazen refusal.

The doors suddenly opened, and out she came, gliding across the stonework like a dancer. I jumped and dropped my gaze as I hurriedly curtsied. I could hear the warmth in her velvet voice as she called, “I am glad to hear from you so soon.”

“My Lady, I am truly humble.” I said, still looking at her slippered feet. “You offered kindness to me that I foolishly turned down, I...can only hope that...that you would still extend this gift in light of my poor choice.”

The feel of her cool fingers curling around my own startled me into looking up. Her eyes were the color of the rivers merging around the village of my childhood. Churning green, grey and blue raging into something sharp and dangerous as steel. It struck me in that moment that I was speaking with the daughter of kings, and I felt more frightened than ever. My knees began to tremble and I let my chin drop once more to my chest.

“My word still holds true. It would bring my heart much joy if you would join my service and help me realize my dream of continuing to help the people of Edoras in what little ways I can.”

After that, we spoke a while on the stone balcony going over my duties that I would begin tomorrow. Like any other handmaiden I would take care of her every need. To do this effectively I would need to leave my lodgings at the orphanage and take up residence under the king’s roof next to her room. I found it difficult to swallow at this point, but I nodded in understanding all the same. The rest of the day went by in one lengthy blur of emotions. In one day, my whole life seemed to have been turned upside down. Elborinde was dead, Lady Eowyn was to be my charge, and Viorith showed me a side of himself that I'd never seen before.

I barely slept; my thoughts were too plagued. Shortly before daybreak I arose and filled a small satchel with what little belongings I had. A comb, a spare apron, a second pair of socks, yarn, needles and thread. Pulling my shawl over my shoulders I tiptoed over to Viorith's room. His breathing was even and deep so I mistook him to be sleeping. In the dark it didn't seem like his eyes were open but as I bent to give him a kiss on the forehead as a goodbye he whispered, “You will be missed dear sister.”

“I will miss you more.”

I could barely make out the smile on his lips as he reassured, “I will be last on your mind once you get up there - surrounded by fine things and people.”

“Never.” I chided, running my fingers through his hair affectionately.

“Off with you then,” he chuckled. “You mustn't be late for your first day.”

“I'll be back to visit soon.”

He made a noise in his throat and turned over, nuzzling into his pillow. I smiled, making my way quietly to the hall. I left with sadness in my heart. The children were devastated when I told them the news at noon meal. Especially after finding out Elborinde’s fate, many felt like I was abandoning them. But some were still excited to meet the new person that would be arriving to help. Marthay in particular was torn. She was more than grateful to the royal niece for such great gifts, but she told me it felt as if she was losing a daughter. I cried at that.

Torches and braziers were still aglow as I came to the Golden Hall. The guards there let me pass when I told them my name. I followed one through the great doors. The ceiling was high, even more than I had expected. It smelled of a warm hearth, ale, wood, and something that I can only describe as time. I looked around in awe as the guard and I passed under the high beams holding the ceiling aloft to a hall on the left. We passed many doors before stopping between two. He pointed to one and explained that this would be where I would stay. The other more filigreed door led to Lady Eowyn’s chambers. He bowed, I curtsied, and then I was alone.

As the sound of his boots on the stone faded, I took a deep breath and went into my new room. It was shockingly large; nearly as big as the lower floor of the orphanage. A plush bed, ornate rug, tall dresser, porcelain wash basin, and plain vanity took up the space. I shakily lit a candle with one of the torches from the hall and went in. Draped at the foot of the bed lay a new dress of black cotton. No holes with a thick underdress to go along with it to help combat the intense glacial winds that come down from the mountains.

I changed out of my rags, rinsed off the grime from my skin, and gave my teeth a good scrubbing. I needed to properly bathe, but it would have to be later. I sat on the bed for quite some time, processing what was happening as best I could. But then I heard the light footsteps of other servants as they began their daily duties. That was my que to find the kitchens and prepare a cup of tea for Eowyn as she awoke. It took me some time to find my way, but finally I acquired what I had been looking for. By the time I went back, I could see the pale rays of morning through the narrow windows.

I quietly slipped into her chambers, marveling silently at how much larger they were than anything I could have imagined. I found where her bed was and gazed upon her sleeping form. She looked small amidst the blankets and furs. Setting the cup of steaming tea down gently on her nightstand, I went over to the drapes covering the windows and drew them back.

“Good morning my lady,” I called gently, careful not to tug too loudly. “I hope you slept well.”

Her clear eyes struggled to open. It seemed that the dreams wished to hold onto her just a bit longer today. I smiled hesitantly when she caught sight of me and asked, “Would my lady like for me to prepare some clothes?”

“Thank you, Valene.” She said, voice thick with the tinge of sleep.

She sipped slowly on the tea, studying me as I moved about the room. It made me nervous. Should I be making conversation? Would that be impudent? Am I impudent now for not entertaining her? What if I were grabbing the wrong dress? But despite all my worrying, she did not say I was doing poorly. In fact, she seemed content.

“How fares your brother? I trust he did not catch cold yesterday?” She asked, taking another long sip.

“Quite well, thank you for asking my lady.” I replied, setting a golden belt encrusted with small gems next to the blue velvet dress I'd chosen. “He was chilled, but after a bit of rest seemed to be in high spirits.”

“Good. And the children?”

“They were greatly saddened by the news of Elborinde’s passing. Many spent the day quiet and contemplative.”

Eowyn seemed troubled by this but said nothing. Instead she pushed back her blankets and swung her legs out and over the side of the bed. She shivered slightly in the cool morning air, and went to sit at her vanity. Once there she took up her brush and began working at the tangles. Calling over her shoulder she said, “I wish to have my hair off my neck today. You've braided before?”

“Yes, my lady.”

I nodded, and stepped up, taking her brush in hand delicately. I removed the remaining tangles from her hair trying hard not to tug, and then carefully braided both sides back into a single braid that ran down the length of her back. I was glad it was even. I had feared my hands shaking would ruin it. She studied my work in the glass and smiled approvingly before standing. That was my cue to undress her and clothe her in her gown for the day. I was clumsy with the laces, having never worked with them before, but if she was perturbed by this she did not show.

“Come,” she said sweeping to the door that led to the hall like a bird on the wind. “The King enjoys taking breakfast with my brother and the Prince in his study before the day truly begins.”

I followed dutifully behind her, seeing some of the other servants that I'd met in the kitchens earlier as they went about their duties. It was strange to watch them bow low as we passed. I knew it wasn’t for my benefit, but it didn’t make it any less jarring. We were the first to enter the large room lined with fully stocked bookshelves. I marveled at the sheer number of volumes.

Eowyn gazed at me out of the corner of her eye and asked, “Do you read much?”

“No, my lady,” I answered, unable to tear my eyes away from the thick bundles of parchment. “I do not know how to.”

Her brows furrowed, “Surely your patroness teaches the children?”

“Marthay has no knowledge of the written word either my lady. We teach them house duties and politeness.”

I could see her wheels turning. A part of me was ecstatic with the prospect of such an important woman taking such an interest in our affairs, but there was the more dominant part that still questioned when she would get tired of how troublesome it all was. I was about to say something to her when movement out of the corner of my eye sealed my lips. Her brother Eomer and her cousin Prince Theodred came in, talking animatedly. When they caught sight of us however, their voices quickly faded. Both bowed when they neared. I curtsied low.

They began a new conversation, one that included Eowyn. I tasked myself with filling their goblets with drink. I was so deathly afraid of spilling on one of them that I didn’t bother listening to any of what they were saying. It didn't occur to me until he walked through the door that the King seemed to be running late. Theoden was preceded by a man with shoulder length stringy black hair, skin as pale as milk and a face resembling a rodent. The strange black clad man glanced around the room, his red-rimmed eyes lingering uncomfortably on Eowyn before stepping to the side. The king walked in slowly as if his head pained him, making his movement difficult. All three of the young royals stood and began fussing over him. But he waved them off, mumbling about being fine.

They all sat down once again and I went about filling two more goblets. However, when I went to go to the king’s side, I was stopped by the greasy man. His face suddenly very close to my own startled me and I nearly dropped the jug of goat milk I held. He sneered, “What fresh face is this that approaches the King so boldly?”

Words failed me.

“Leave the girl be, Grima.” Eomer barked, not hiding his distaste for the man at all.

I could feel the tension rising between them. I was thankful when Eowyn’s clear voice cut in decisively, “She is my new handmaiden.”

His watery eyes darted over my shoulder to her. They softened as a very slight tinge of pink colored his hollow cheeks. He bowed his head in acknowledgment before giving me one last look and stepping aside. King Theoden had been too distracted by his own thoughts to notice this exchange at all. In fact, he barely touched his food throughout the meal. Eowyn watched after him, concern wrinkling the skin between her brows. When her uncle suddenly excused himself, she stood and looked like she wanted to call him back, but stopped herself when Grima slid in between them.

“He does not seem himself of late…” Eowyn mumbled, more to herself than me, glowering in the direction they left.

Theodred pat Eomer’s shoulder and said, “Grima may be silver tongued, but he is harmless. I fear the King may be heavy with the burdens of running a kingdom, constantly under attack by orcs.”

This answer didn't seem to sit well with Eomer, but he did not argue further. Instead he and the prince began talking strategy and scouting parties to distract themselves. At this Eowyn stood and bade them farewell. I followed her out to the great hall where she took a seat at one of the long tables and produced a book from the folds of her dress. She too seemed to want to distract herself from thoughts of her uncle.

“Here,” she said, beckoning me closer and pointing to one of the small letters. “This one is called ‘a’ and can be pronounced like so…”

I tried to protest, but she insisted. As she explained the alphabet to me patiently, I couldn't help but marvel at the warm feeling steadily growing in my belly. I remembered what Viorith had said about this being my opportunity for greatness. Perhaps he was right. I was excited by the prospect of being able to finally read. Not only that but my teacher was the great Lady Eowyn, ward of the King of Rohan. More importantly, she wanted something to keep her mind off her uncle, and it was within my meager power to oblige.

I realized then that if I could do anything for her, I would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said at the bottom of the last one that I'd update every Sunday, but I meant to write Saturday. LOL My brain sometimes, I tell you what.   
> Anyway, hope you like the update. Let me know what you think of it! See you next week!  
> <3


	4. Broken Fellowship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valene grows accustomed to her new life serving Lady Eowyn. She, as well as others, grow concerned for the King. Just when hope seems out of their reach, strangers come calling.

I went back once a week on my resting day to visit my brother and the orphans. Viorith fell ill for a short time after my enlistment with Lady Eowyn. It pained me to be away from him, but he refused to allow me to worry about him. And with help from Calil - Lady Eowyn’s promised help - he was better shortly thereafter. I know Marthay thought of her new caretaker as indispensable when her legs became too painful for her to stand for longer than a few minutes at a time. Aeriador went on patrols with the other members of his squadron. Elborinde’s death was hard for him, but time softened the sting. He would often take me on walks when he returned. They were something I looked forward to. As the months and seasons passed, I even found that I myself was changing. The closeness between Eowyn and I grew. She confided in me, continued to try to teach me how to read, and even sparred exclusively with me once she’d demonstrated how a sword worked. My timidity and fearful nature fell away as I was shaped into a capable woman that mirrored a faint reflection of Eowyn herself. We became close. Her brother and the Prince often teased us, saying we were sisters.   
We often laughed.   
But that gaiety was short lived. As time progressed, Theoden grew to be unrecognizable. He barely spoke, aside from whispers to Grima Wormtongue, and he never left the Golden Hall. The threat of orcs, and even the wild men, grew daily. Prince Theodred and Eomer were forced to go on back to back raids so the people wouldn’t lose hope or faith in their king. Eomer had been gone for the longest time yet, nearly two months in an effort to hunt down orc raiding parties. Theodred knelt before his father, eyes pleading as he bade him farewell. The king offered no blessings. He didn’t even acknowledge that his son was before him. He merely stared vacantly at the nearby wooden pillar. The prince straightened, smiling sadly down at the man who seemed much older than he should have been. It was painful seeing how he tried hiding the hurt in his heart.   
Lady Eowyn and I followed him out to the stone balcony. She gave him her own well wishes and bade him come back swiftly. We stood on the balcony overlooking Edoras and watched as his party and their horses grew smaller and smaller, finally disappearing on the horizon. Knowing that she would want to keep her mind distracted, I suggested that we go visit the orphans that loved her so. She agreed reluctantly, almost as if she couldn’t shake the bad feeling settling in her gut.   
A month after the Prince’s scouting party went out, Eomer returned unexpectedly. One of the servants came and breathlessly informed us that the Prince was with him, and injured. Apparently Theodred had taken an orcish blade to the belly in battle somewhere near the Fords of Isen. Eowyn was instantly on her feet and rushing to his chambers where they would undoubtedly bring him. I waited in the great hall, nervously mending the fine lace of one of her gowns as she visited his side.   
As I stitched, I kept glancing to the king - who seemed unaffected by the news of his son’s serious injury - and Grima - who kept looking in the direction of the royal chambers where Theodred lay. After a long while, Eomer emerged, rubbing the back of his gloved hand at his eyes. I dropped what I was doing and went to him.   
“Can I bring you something?” I asked tentatively.   
Eomer glanced to me, his eyes that reminded me so much of Eowyn’s, glistening in frustration. Noting that it was me he shook his head and mumbled thickly, “There is nothing that could mend what my heart feels right now.”  
We fell into a mourning silence. What would happen to the kingdom if Theodred died? It was a frightening question. Perhaps Eomer thought so as well. After a pause, he suddenly wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me close, burying his face in my hair. This was something he’d never done before and it took me off guard. I swallowed, my chin bobbing against his shoulder that I was pressed against. It was at this moment that I saw Grima slink off, leaving the king slumped on his throne. Perhaps I should have said something, but Eomer seemed so broken at the moment, I didn’t want to burden him any further.   
Finally, Eomer pulled away and cleared his throat. It reminded me of the boys at the orphanage wishing to save face in front of the others and it made me want to take care of him. Quietly, I tugged on his arm and led him to the kitchen, asking for one of the servants there to make him something warm and get him something to drink. He said nothing, but allowed me to sit him on a stool. Thinking he didn’t need me there to fuss over him like a child, I made to leave. That was when I felt his hand clamp down over my forearm.   
“Thank you, Valene.” he muttered, his expression serious.  
“It is no trouble, my Lord.” I replied gently.   
He held fast like he didn’t want me to leave. I could feel dozens of eyes on us. Eomer seemed to notice as well and remembered himself. I left feeling strange.

The minutes ticked by. I waited patiently for Lady Eowyn in the great hall, stealing glances at the king sitting slumped in his throne. Theoden grunted as he struggled to shift his weight and grab for the goblet just out of his reach. I immediately rose to my feet, grabbed the cup and placed it in his wizened hand. Pulling away as he took a trembling sip I asked, “Do you need anything, your grace?”  
His yellowed eyes slowly turned to study my face. Sweat broke out on my palms as his fingers caught my sleeve with a surprising amount of sudden strength. He tugged me close and whispered words that passed his cracked lips like a dry wind. I couldn’t understand. I was afraid to lean in any further. Something about him scared me. And yet, the concerned crease of his brow looked like he was asking for help. Gathering my courage, my lips parted as I was about to ask him to clarify. But before I could, a heavy hand fell onto my shoulder, making me gasp.   
Standing behind me looking furious was Grima.   
“Your Lady rushed off to her chambers in a mood...you should tend to her needs.” he spat, slinking to the king’s side possessively as he pushed me away.   
I clutched the spot on my shoulder like his touch had burnt me. He seemed to note how his touch disgusted me and glowered all the more fiercely. Glancing to the king, I saw that his eyes no longer held any meaning in them. They were once again vacant. Guilt stabbed into my gut as I got the feeling that I’d missed something important.  
Reluctantly, I left.  
Days passed. It felt as if the whole of Edoras held its breath, anxiously waiting to see if the Prince would pull through. I busied myself with work while Eowyn stayed by his bedside. Sadly, he passed one night in his sleep. Everyone was devastated. Everyone except the king, who showed no signs of even realizing what had happened to his only son and heir. I watched on with a heavy heart as Eowyn attempted informing her uncle of his death. He barely looked in her direction. And as if this bad news wasn’t enough, later that day we were informed by a smug Grima that Eomer had deserted his city as well as a number of Rohirram. The hope that the kingdom so desperately had been clinging to was slipping through our fingers like water.  
I ran a hand over my stinging eyes in an attempt at keeping the tears at bay, but they still ended up escaping as I cleaned Eowyn’s room. When she came in suddenly, I saw that she was lost in thought. She paced back and forth agitatedly. Could it be Grima Wormtongue again? The frightening man seemed to try and corner her more and more lately and force his honeyed words on her.   
“Please my lady, you’ll wear out your slippers.” I called, wiping my dusty hands on my smock. I motioned to one of her cushioned chairs, but was ignored.   
“Visitors have come through the gates,” she muttered, shooting me a look. “I have a strange feeling, Valene, one that I am unsure is favorable or not…”  
“Too many bad things have happened recently, it is understandable to be cautious around newcomers.”  
Not many had come to visit the last few years. The last I remembered was a minor lord from Gondor who had taken up his father's mantle and was visiting the neighboring kingdom. He had not stayed long.   
I began sweeping, careful to not disturb Eowyn while she pondered. A while later though, the tense quiet was disturbed by the sound of a fight breaking out in the great hall. Fear settled into Eowyn's features as we both stood and looked to each other. I could read in her eyes that she thought the strangers must have come to harm the king while he was in a weak state. Without saying a word, Eowyn rushed out the door and down the hall to the sound of fighting. I followed after once my moment of hesitation passed. I kept a firm grip on my broom as I chased after her. I had to protect her.  
The hall was littered with guards groaning on the ground, beaten down by the strangers. Despite this Eowyn sprinted toward the king, elbowing her way bravely through to help him. I couldn't see over their heads to Theoden, but I did see one of the strangers grab Eowyn’s arms and pull her back. She struggled against him. Anger roiled up from deep within me, quashing any last of the apprehension I felt. Thankful now that I had the broom, I lifted it and prepared to strike the back of the head of the man who held her.   
I was completely caught unaware by someone reaching up from behind and stopping the broom mid swing. I whirled, hoping my fist could find a target. But that was abruptly halted by the person’s other hand coming up and catching mine. Before I could protest, he spun me like we were dancing, and crushed me against his chest. Leaning so his mouth was close to my ear he urged, “Be still.”  
Not willing to take orders from a stranger, I wriggled in an attempt at pulling free, lifting my chin in the process. As soon as I caught sight of the man holding me, I felt my lips part slightly in awe. He was an elf. I had never seen one before, but there was no mistaking. Long strands of beautiful silver hair framed his softly angular face, pointed ears stuck out, and his startlingly icy blue eyes stared unfalteringly down at me. I was ashamed to say that the immediate dangers of the present fell away as I stared.  
“You have no power here, Gandalf Greyhelm!”  
The sound of the king’s gnarled voice pulled me from my suspended moment. I pushed away as hard as I could from the elf and struggled to see what was happening. I only managed to detangle for a brief moment before his powerful hands locked me into place once more. I didn’t fight again. What I saw had me more frightened than I'd been a moment before. The king sat, cackling maniacally in the face of an old man who held a pearlescent walking staff. I fought the urge to recoil as Theoden spat hatefully at the grey cloaked man before him. As if they reached a point where both equally matched each other with an unsaid power, the old man reached up swiftly and unclasped his cloak, letting the grey fabric fall to the ground in a heap. As it left his shoulders a light seemed to radiate from the white robes underneath, temporarily blinding me.   
Fighting against the power of the light, the king called through gritted teeth, “If I go...Theoden dies!”   
The voice that came from him was not his own. I recoiled unconsciously and watched on in fear as a silent battle of wills raged between them. Tension mounted between the two. The small hairs all over my body stood up with the electrifying feeling of magic coming off the white wizard in waves. Suddenly, Theoden lunged forward and was met with the end of the wizard’s staff. I let out a short cry of horror but could do nothing besides clutch at the elf’s forearms across my chest while he held me still. Theoden crashed back into his seat after a brief flash of light and let out a low moan of pain. Eowyn broke away from the dark-haired man who held her and went to the king’s side. She caught his limp form as he slumped from his throne to the ground.   
All gathered watched on with baited breath. Unconsciously, I gripped the elf’s sleeve tighter in anticipation. When the king lifted his head, I gazed in awe as whatever dark spell Grima had placed over him, fell away to reveal the ruler I remembered. Theoden sat panting, looking about at the faces surrounding him before focusing in on Eowyn’s close at his side. His eyes widened with recognition as he looked at her like she was sunlight after a particularly long and dark night. He reached up a trembling hand and caressed her cheek. She leant into his touch with tears streaming as he whispered, “I know your face…Eowyn…”  
She let out a relieved laugh made thick by the tears welling in her eyes. Blinking as if he were clearing away fog from his mind and sight, he once again looked around the room, particularly the white wizard. Brows knitting together he asked unsurely, “Gandalf…?”  
“Breathe the free air again, my friend.” the old man answered with a smile.  
The King, with Eowyn’s help, got to his feet shakily and said, “Dark have been my dreams of late…”  
Now that the excitement had abated, I became aware of my own body. The elf still stood directly behind me, his chest pressed against my back, and his hands still loosely holding me. This elf and his companions had been trying to help the king. Slightly embarrassed, I reached up and gently pulled on his fingers as a silent request for release. Almost as if he himself had forgotten, he quickly stepped back. I glanced over my shoulder and bowed to him, taking in the confused look on his face. It was now that I noticed Grima lying beaten and bloody on the ground under the boot of the last stranger in the company, a red headed dwarf. Eomer had been right to call him a snake. Grima had been poisoning the king all these years.   
All attention turned to the snivelling man as the Theoden’s sword was placed back in his hands. Grima recognized the power that grew in the king as his own death. I watched as the king stood taller and narrowed his eyes at the forked tongued man who had nearly corrupted him beyond all reason.   
“Please, my King, don’t-” Grima started, eyes darting nervously. He was cut off as the king grabbed a fistful of the front of Grima’s robes and started dragging the wailing man toward the front doors. We followed silently.  
I winced as the rat faced man was thrown unceremoniously down the stone steps. He writhed at the base, making every excuse he could as the king advanced on him. A crowd gathered. It came as a shock when the dark-haired man who had held Eowyn back rushed down to stay Theoden’s hand. Eowyn and I shared a questioning look. Why would he allow such a traitor’s life to be spared? Grima took the opportunity to scramble to his feet and push through the townsfolk who had gathered. I could see anger in the King’s eyes as the dark-haired man bowed low with respect and apology and called, “Hail Theoden, King!”  
I dropped to my knee as well as the others around the keep. When I prepared to stand, I caught sight of the look on Theoden’s face as he searched the crowd for something. Suddenly Eowyn’s hand gripped the sleeve of my gown. Her face had gone white as she realized something I hadn’t yet. The sound of the King’s weak voice broke through the air, and my heart sank, “Where is Theodred...where is my son…?”

Clutching the pitcher of ale, I watched as the King sat despondently on his throne. He had not touched his own goblet of drink yet. It seemed that he still struggled with the news that his son’s death had occurred only days prior. The wizard Gandalf was hesitant in being the bearer of further bad tidings, but the lands of Middle Earth seemed to be even more in peril than previously thought. That was why he and his company had come to Theoden’s doorstep. They required a decision of action on his part. While they spoke of all that had been missed in the time of being under the influence of Wormtongue, the others of his company smoked their pipe weed, ate what seemed to be a long overdue meal, and drank their fill.   
The dwarf, whose name was Gimli, held his flagon aloft as his sign for more ale. This would be his sixth in very quick succession. I would need to tell the other servants to prepare another keg before the evening was through. The dwarf took another long pull off his pipe, nodded to Eowyn who sat a little way away, and called, “A good maid you have in your employ my Lady. Ready to defend her mistress with naught but a broom!”  
I managed to share a small smile with Eowyn as the dwarf guffawed. She turned to the dark-haired man, whose name was Aragorn, and offered up a short apology on my behalf. He waved his hand disinterestedly and went back to listening in on the conversation between Gandalf and Theoden. It was while all were occupied that I felt my eyes wandering over to the elf by the name of Legolas. He stood leaning against one of the pillars on the other side of the room, listening raptly to the wizard’s report. During their introductions Gandalf had said that he was son to Thranduil, king of the woodland elves in Mirkwood. Could he truly be a Prince? After the initial surprise and wonderment of seeing an elf for the first time, it seemed like he looked normal. His hair was messy, his tunic was worn and dirty, and his boots looked like they were caked with half the mud in Rohan. It certainly did not inspire as much thought of faraway lands and other beautiful things when he appeared as any other young man. While I had been staring, I did not notice his steely blue eyes gazing back. When I did, I ducked my head, and went to quickly refill the dwarf’s flagon.  
By now the timeline of the conversation was coming closer to the present, and Lady Eowyn offered her own knowledge of Rohan’s borders in the stead of her brother. She stood and strode closer to the king, “Many of the outer villages on the eastern border have been razed to the ground by orc and wild men raiding parties. Many of the people have abandoned their farms and fled inland. Our soldiers struggle to hold back the tide.”  
The King looked deeply entrenched in his thoughts after such a barrage of information. I know I would be floundering with panic if I had woken from a long sleep only to find that the world had fallen apart around me while I dreamed. All looked to him and waited expectantly for his decision on what to do. He answered by putting heavy head in hand. The wizard glanced around to the others, and went to sit at the king’s right-hand side.   
Gandalf motioned to Eowyn and argued, “This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent, for he is driven mad out of fear of Sauron’s wrath. Ride out and meet him head on.”  
Theoden seemed to look increasingly more uncomfortable at the wizard’s closeness and tone. As Gandalf placed his hand on the armchair of the throne, the King’s eyes turned dark.   
“Draw him away from your women and children. You   
fight.” Gandalf urged, seeing the look on his face.  
“You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak. My company and I crossed paths with them not long ago. And Eomer is loyal to you still. His men will return and fight for their king.” Aragorn spoke up finally, letting his pipe fall from his lips.  
The king stood agitatedly and said, “They will be three hundred leagues from here by now...Eomer cannot help us.”  
At this Gandalf followed the King’s steps, I tried to understand all that was happening. This company painted a grim picture as they spoke of Saruman the White, a powerful wizard, now being agent to the Dark Lord Sauron himself. An army of orcs would soon be on its way to claim every life it could in Rohan. We were the lynchpin that held the lands afloat in the sea of evil. I shakily refilled the dwarf’s flagon once again as the King said, “I know what it is you want of me...but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war.”  
Lady Eowyn caught my gaze. Under her composure, I could see the apprehension in her large eyes. It seemed she did not think her Uncle was rationalizing clearly, not with his trauma being so recent.   
“Open war is upon you,” Aragorn cut in, his face all seriousness. “Whether you would risk it or not.”  
Theoden’s eyes narrowed in anger at the ranger’s impudence. He turned on him and growled, “When last I looked Theoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan.”  
This was the second time that day this man had undermined Theoden’s authority as King. Pride swelled in my chest at the sight of my king staring down a stranger in his court. Just as I was wondering if the guards would be called in to restrain Aragorn, the dwarf cut the tension by emitting a low belch. All those gathered let out a collective breath, and moved to work out their frustrations by pacing or picking quietly at food. Finally, Gandalf, looking humble and patient, asked, “Then what is the King’s decision?”  
“We make for Helm’s Deep.” the king said, standing and staring down any man that met his gaze. When no one brought up an argument against him, Theoden turned and strode out of the hall toward the royal chambers.   
Eowyn watched after him worriedly. I asked quietly, “Should you go to him my lady?”  
“No,” she replied, eyes looking mournfully up at me. “He needs time alone.”  
I sat next to her at the table, setting the jug of ale down gently. Reaching out and touching her hand I asked, “What are you thinking?”  
Leaning closer she muttered, “We should be fighting. Too long have we idly sat by, letting our lands and people be whittled away into nothing. If what these men say is true, then more is at stake than just our borders.”  
So, she was not in agreement with the king’s decision. That was a terrifying thought because I trusted Eowyn’s judgement more than anyone else's. Despite being a woman of noble birth, she had an extraordinary mind. If she believed that Rohan needed to stand up and fight, then I trusted her. If Eomer were here he would too. If Theodred were still alive, then...perhaps Rohan would not be fleeing like a whipped dog.   
I gave her arm a gentle squeeze and nodded in understanding. I stood, getting ready to fill Aragorn’s goblet, and caught sight of the elf studying us. It was disconcerting. Almost as if he had somehow heard what had been whispered from across the room.   
Soon after, Lady Eowyn stood and announced that she would be retiring for the evening, “Servants will show you to guest quarters when you are ready.”  
The eclectic company stood at once and bowed to her, watching as the pair of us made our leave. I could feel their gaze on the back of my neck all the way across the hall as I followed Eowyn. It wasn’t until we’d rounded the corner out of sight that I felt I could breathe freely once more.   
“I know not if they are to be fully trusted,” Eowyn said, keeping her gaze trained on the walkway in front of us. “But I have heard stories of the wizard.”  
“Who is he?”  
“Most call him Gandalf the Gray. He’s one of a handful of powerful wizards that have been around for hundreds of years.”  
I exclaimed, “He appears such an unassuming old man.”  
The smile that turned up the corners of her lips only lasted for a moment before it faded and she said, “My instincts tell me that there is more to this company than they are willing to reveal.”  
“Oh?”  
“Who is that Aragorn that behaves as he does?” she asked, eyes blazing as she threw open the door of her room.   
“He could have been brought up in the forest?” I offered, trying to stifle the smile that wanted so badly to emerge. “Perhaps beneath a rock to be more specific?”  
Eowyn stopped in her tracks and turned to look at me struggling to remain composed. Instantly a small chuckle melted the anger from her brow. Coming back to my side she wrapped me up in her arms and sighed in relief.   
I got her into bed and then went to my room. I tried to sleep, but all I could think about was what would need to be done for tomorrow. Not only would I need to ready Eowyn for the journey to Helm’s Deep, but I would have to find some time to see to Viorith and the children. Moving so many young ones over such a distance was going to be a challenge. Perhaps I could convince some of the other families with wagons to take on one or two?   
That morning, before the sun had even started to rise, I slipped out and went down to the barracks. I asked to see Aeriador. He had arrived back the day after Eomer had left and I had yet to see him. He came out looking sleep tousled but became alert when he saw the concern hidden poorly behind my smile. Gripping my arms and bending slightly so he could look into my eyes, he pulled me away and asked, “What troubles you, Valene?”  
Quietly I told him about what the king planned to announce today. Instantly his face grew pale and hardened as he said, “This is serious.”  
I nodded and said, “If you can, help Marthay and Viorith with the children? I fear this will prove to be too much for the both of them.”  
“Of course,” he answered as if he were offended that I had to ask.  
A small portion of the worry I’d been carrying on my shoulders was lifted as I gave him a small ‘thank you’. Strands of my unbound hair were blown into my eyes as the winds changed direction. Before I could brush them aside, Aeriador’s fingers were already there. His feather light touch tickled my skin.   
“Middle earth has become dangerous overnight,” he murmured, shuffling closer to me so our bodies were only inches apart.   
“So it seems,” I said, voice trembling as my stomach turned to butterflies.   
“I give you my vow, that I will keep you safe from whatever harm may come.”  
“Aeriador-” I started, cut off as his chilled lips pressed against my heated cheek.  
As I stood shocked into silence, he pulled back and looked directly into my eyes, “You and your brother are all I have left of our village. I care for you as I would for my own family.”  
Had that kiss been from a brother to a sister, then? He seemed to read my thoughts and continued, “When this tide of darkness has been driven back, I hope to give you a happy life, forever by my side. Valene, would you…agree to be my wife?”  
Shock left me dumb. I stood gaping up at him, unable to form the words. I never believed that he thought of me that way. I’d seen him quite often with ladies from the tavern or out taking walks with the merchant’s daughter.   
“I know I’ve never expressed my feelings for you as a man ought to,” he explained bashfully. “But hearing you talk of what dangers we are about to face has given me the courage to finally speak my mind.”  
I stood spluttering; my mind unable to fully comprehend. He merely smiled, caressed my cheek and said, “Think on it. I will wait for you.”  
With that, he stooped once more, and pressed a slow kiss against my mouth. I went blank. All that existed were our connected lips. And then he pulled away. With a cheeky wink over his shoulder, he strode back toward the barracks. If it hadn’t been for the bright red flush of embarrassment that colored his ears, I would think that had been a joke.   
I didn’t have much time to process. Morning light was brightening the sky which meant that I needed to get back to Eowyn. Hurrying up the hill, I shook my head and told myself to save it for later.   
Everything went by in a blur after that. I woke Eowyn and quickly got her dressed for her uncle’s announcement to the people of Edoras. Servants, soldiers, and all manner of persons went rushing by in dozens of directions as people packed. I myself was drenched in sweat very quickly as I moved about. Just before midday, Eowyn caught my arm in an effort to get me to stop.  
“Go Valene,” she said, motioning to the traveling clothes and extra boots I’d laid out. “I can handle this. Go to the children. They need more help than I.”  
I curtsied and thanked her as I hurried off. It took a great deal of time shepherding the smaller children into the orphanage cart alongside what little belongings they had, but also helping Marthay who could barely walk any more. I caught sight of her swollen ankles as she struggled to pull herself up next to Calil. They were severely discolored and made my stomach clench in surprise.   
Viorith was thankfully well enough to ride one of the two mules. Aeriador too joined in helping pack the supplies once his obligations were on break. Boldly, his fingers curled around my own as our paths drew close. I flushed and hurried away. My brother noticed my shyness around Aeriador and kept making faces at me. I just ignored him. After making sure they had all the food, water and blankets we could fit, I went to Viorith and urged him to stay safe and well.   
Offering me a crooked smile, he shrugged the blanket around his shoulders, and reassured me, “I can take care of myself, Valene. Worry about your own safety.”  
I nodded, knowing that he was right. He had proven that over the last year. Marthay caught my arm just before I was about to head back up to ready my own things. She tugged a small parcel out from under her cloak and said, “For the Lady, to keep her warm during the nights.”  
“I will give it to her.” I replied, taking up the package.  
Everyone waved as I left, most particularly Aeriador, who frustratingly found my embarrassment amusing. I rushed back up the hill, dodging soldiers, horses, carts, and residents of Edoras all rushing about trying to pack enough provisions for the trip to Helm’s Deep as well as any siege that may occur. Slightly out of breath, I slipped through the front doors of the Golden Hall and turned to go down the corridor towards the royal chambers. In my haste I was unable to see the person in my path in time. My shoulder grazed his solid frame and sent me stumbling. I dropped the parcel from Marthay as well as some other gifts from the children and Calil.   
I stooped low and began scooping the contents back into my arms all while saying breathlessly, “Forgive me, I had no mind of where I was going.”  
I froze however when I recognized the hand that offered me an item that had escaped my reach. Slowly, I looked up into the clear blue eyes of the elf. He stared back, curiosity tilting his brows up, making his face look young. I took the item and clutched it to me, white knuckled. He nodded to all the tokens and said, “Packing like this for such a journey is ill advised.”  
I hadn’t really heard him speak before this, so such a blunt statement was startling enough to keep my own retort trapped in my throat. My already flushed face grew increasingly warm with indignation as I struggled to form the words I so desperately wished for. He seemed confused by my lack of conversation and gave me a concerned look, like he thought I was simple. It only furthered my frustration.  
“They are gifts for Lady Eowyn,” I finally managed to spit out, glaring down at the hand warmers and other trinkets the children had made for her. “From the orphans...”  
I had no desire to hear him reply. Before I got myself into trouble or had to listen to him intentionally or unintentionally belittle any further, I curtsied and uttered a soft, “Good day, my Lord.”  
The last of the afternoon was spent readying the wagons and horses for travel. Eowyn appreciated the presents. She even kept a couple to carry with her. As she settled the shawl from Marthay over her shoulders she rubbed the wool and gave me a strange look.   
Taking her hand, I sat her down and asked, “What is it, my Lady?”  
“Lord Aragorn…” she began slowly. “He and I exchanged sword blows in the great hall.”  
I was completely taken aback until she explained. As she had been packing away items for the march to Helm’s Deep, she’d taken up her old practice sword. While running through some simple movements, Aragorn had come out of thin air to exchange with her both verbally and with the blade.   
Leaning in so our conversation may not be overheard she licked her lips and said, “He spoke to me in a way no one has ever done so before. My first impression had me believing he was rude and uncivilized, but...in his words there was respect. Not because I was a Lady of Rohan, but…because I was a capable woman. He called me a ‘Shield-Maiden of Rohan’.”  
“That is quite extraordinary.” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.   
I grinned. This was something that had filled many of our conversations. She always felt the unending cage of gilded metal around her in life, keeping her from being helpful or useful aside from lending her ‘grace’ and ‘fair features’ to certain delicate situations and places of talk. And for the first time since I’d known her, I could see the fierce glow of affection brightening her steely gaze, warming the fires of determination that had run cold and neglected for so long.   
This small glimmer of good will was a welcome distraction from all the horror and sadness that had plagued us. But I feared it would undoubtedly be short lived as worldly evils came to steal the hope from our hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next week for the next update! Stay Happy! <3


	5. To Helm's Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people of Edoras leave for Helm's Deep. Valene feels two pairs of eyes on her.

The procession to Helm’s Deep left late in the afternoon and marched late into the evening. I did not have time to go check on my brother or the children. It kept me awake yet again. That morning was a difficult one. My body fought me as I tried moving to go make tea. The warmth of the fire was helpful but my eyes felt swollen and dry. Eowyn took one look at me and asked concerned, “Are you unwell, Valene?”

I shook my head vigorously. I did not want her to worry. That, and I suddenly felt many eyes on us. Our conversations were not normally in such close proximity to others. I glanced furtively at Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas who stood close by. Aragorn seemed to care very little about my health. Gimli and Legolas however stood looking me over curiously. It was then that I realized their wizard friend was gone. Angling my body away from them, I leant in close to Eowyn and asked Eowyn about Gandalf.

“The men say he left sometime in the night that first day they arrived.” She answered, speaking into her cup of tea. “I hope it means that he went to retrieve Eomer.”

I nodded in agreement and stood.

Later that morning Eowyn and I walked alongside our horses. She spoke with the people, giving them comfort where she could, laughing at jokes. It was good to see her smiling. I strode next to her, reading from one of the simpler tombs at her insistence.

“And so...the Kings w-will...lie-live...in the halls -” I read aloud, struggling a little. She stopped me and corrected my pronunciation of ‘live’.

“ _Live_ in the halls of their...for-fuh...forb -” I stopped, screwing up my face in an effort to force myself to understand the long string of letters. But it was no use. I gave up and held the little book out to Eowyn, still keeping a firm grip on my horse’s reins as we trudged across uneven ground.

She glanced at the page and said calmly, “Forbearers.”

“ _Forbearers_ …” I repeated resolutely before continuing.

I was painfully slow, but no one seemed to mind. I was even starting to find a flow when the dwarf, elf, and the man rode up unexpectedly. The sound in my throat died as Legolas’ piercing gaze locked with mine. He studied me curiously, and I promptly shut the book. A couple of the children who had been next to us let out sounds of disappointment before walking off dejectedly. I felt bad, I’d just been getting to the next chapter which seemed like it was going to talk about a forbidden love. But I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of the strangers. Legolas blinked in surprise at my reaction and I pretended not to notice, ducking my head and letting my person fall behind a little so my horse could obscure me.

“My lady, Lord Aragorn is here.” I called over quietly.

She started and looked around, cheeks coloring as she caught sight of the man. She had feelings for him, she had said as much briefly, but it was still an ember. Unsure and waiting for the right bed of hay to set ablaze. From my spot behind her, I watched as Aragorn dismounted and went to walk next to Eowyn. They started up a calm conversation. Smiling to myself as my initial anxieties fell away, I fell further back to give them space.

“Are you just learning?” a familiar voice asked softly to my left.

He had made no sound. I suppose that was typical of an elf. It didn’t make his appearance any less disconcerting.

With genuine interest written across his face he continued, “You seem to be new at reading. Can I assist you?”

My thoughts flashed to the last infuriating time I saw him and I flushed. He seemed to know what I was thinking because his face went into a state of what I can only describe as blank concern. His dark brows drew together and he muttered, “For my actions before...I apologize.”

I didn’t know what to think. Not only did an elf just apologize to me, but an elf prince. I panicked. Lowering my gaze and giving him a jerking nod of acceptance, I not so subtly turned to pat my horse on the neck and got absorbed with staring intently at the sheen on its coat. I felt like a child running to hide under her mother’s skirts. Chiding myself for my immature reaction, I meant to turn back and thank him and accept his apology clearly, but the sound died in my throat as I felt him leave. Like an autumn leaf falling away from its branch. Peering around I caught sight of his straight back disappearing into the crowd.

Cursing under my breath I muttered, “Thank you, my lord. I am learning how to read. It is embarrassing admitting that to you for one reason or another.”

I sighed heavily.

We marched well into the night, and rose early the next morning. My own legs ached from so much exertion; I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for those of whom without a horse. But today was the day that we would reach our destination. Before midday rest was announced, Eowyn gave me leave to visit Viorith and the others. They were doing well. My brother was in high spirits. It seemed the fresh air and new scenery was doing him good despite a small cough developing. He even asked me to explain what the alphabet was from my little book.

At one point after being unable to distinguish the difference between ‘u’ and ‘v’, he looked over at me and teased, “You must think yourself very important now that you know how to read.”

I grinned crookedly and said, “Quiet, you.”

After making sure that he promised to take some medicine and rest, I left to find Eowyn. She helped one of the servants preparing a meal. I helped by filling the cooking pot with water from a nearby stream and situating it over the fire. Eowyn watched me, looking like she was lost in thought about Aragorn. Smiling breathlessly up at her I asked jokingly, “Does my lady wish to prepare the meal?”

Regret pulled the smile from my lips as her face brightened and she exclaimed, “Yes, I would like that.”

The servants around us all gave me looks filled with blame as Eowyn started ordering the cutting of vegetables and other ingredients. We were all nervous. The last time she’d cooked it had gone very wrong. And being the king’s ward who were we to refuse eating it? I tried my best to coach her through the process, but sadly it was in vain. As we sat down to eat, I had to fight past both the gritty texture of the fish and the effect the odd arrangement of spices was having on my gag reflex.

“I believe this is better than last time, my lady, well done.” I commented, working the strange aftertaste around in my mouth.

Pleased with herself, she insisted that we go around dolling out small portions to others. It was here that I realized what her true goal had been this whole time; impress Aragorn.

The looks on the people’s faces was enough to tell me that they too found the flavor odd, but most shrugged and ignored it, happy to have something warm in their bellies. Some had little to go on besides bread and bits of dried pork. Aragorn however, was more transparent with his displeasure. Biting my lip in an effort not to chuckle, I watched as his face paled. He very skillfully reassured Eowyn that it was good, but was unable to pour out the contents because she would not turn her back for long enough.

Giving him a pointed look, I called loudly, “My lady, look over there! A beautiful falcon!”

Gratefully he nodded and dumped the bowlful onto the ground behind him when she was distracted. She however took that to mean that he was extremely hungry and spooned more into his bowl.

Leaving her to her charitable duties, I went with some of the other servants to hunt around nearby for some naturally growing edible roots and herbs. Luckily, we found a large patch, but it was far from where the people had made rest. None of the soldiers we asked were able to accompany us out there. Either they felt too exhausted, or that they were too busy. Neither of which would matter if they remained on their horse or sat on a boulder close by. Finally, I managed to track down Aeriador who was happy enough to volunteer his time. Our eyes met for a moment and a smile warmed his features.

I smiled back.

“How fares your brother and the others? I have been unable to check in on them since our march began.” he asked, falling into step next to me as we made our way over the rocky terrain.

“They seem to be handling the long journey as well as expected; better even. Viorith seems quite in his element.”

“How rare for him,” Aeriador said. “I am glad to hear of it.”

A feeling of kinship grew as I remembered all that we’d gone through together. Aeriador knew my fears when it came to my brother, just as I had known his when it came to Elborinde. All at once I could picture myself being with him like he asked. When all this nightmarish warring was over we would live in a small cottage, maybe where our old village used to be. The two rivers could wash away the stained memories and we could sow new ones into the land.

While we worked, he stood by, keeping a weather eye out for any danger. The other servants caught me staring at him. One nudged me playfully and whispered, “He’s become quite the man, wouldn’t you say Valene?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said through my smile, shooting her a mischievous look.

She nodded knowingly and chuckled, starting up a quiet rendition of a working song. I joined in, letting my mind go into a state of meditation as my hands repeatedly dug through the dirt. I daydreamed, something that I hadn’t done since I was a young girl. It made me feel like I was light enough to fly away. Gathering the roots into the front of my apron, I took our harvest and headed toward camp. As I passed Aeriador, I gave him a meaningful look from under my eyelashes. I hoped I conveyed all the warmth and comfort he gave me. My uncharacteristic boldness stunned him and his mouth fell open slightly before blinking and grinning back.

A prickling feeling caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. Sucking in a small breath of air, I glanced around. I stood exposed and alone on a short stretch of land between where I came from and where I was going. Keeping my features calm, I squinted against the cold glare of the sun beaming through the thin cloud cover and almost missed the silhouette of a man’s kneeling figure on top of the rocks a few meters away. His pale blonde hair and long bow slung over his arm made the elf easily recognizable.

“What are you doing up there?” I muttered quizzically. And almost like he heard me, he stood. Even from this distance I could feel his eyes looking into my own. I tucked my chin toward my chest, paused for a moment contemplating what I was doing, and then rushed off.

Midday rest ended and the people were once again walking on tired feet. A strange mood clouded my thoughts as I followed along with them. Eowyn could tell something was on my mind, but I avoided her scrutiny. Even I was unsure why I had grown so uncomfortable. Those thoughts were interrupted as the sound of a shrill scream echoed off the rocks around us. Everyone hushed, listening with strained panic. My heart clenched horribly in my chest as I recognized the sounds to be that of someone getting attacked. I rushed to Eowyn’s side, head swiveling for any sign of danger.

From the hill ahead of us, Aragorn came dashing down, his hand clamped firmly over his sword hilt. Catching sight of Eowyn he hollered, “Orcs! We’re under attack!”

Fear ran through the crowd in one great shiver as realization dawned. I was thankful Viorith and the others were well out of harm's way near the back of the procession. All the soldiers rushed to their horses, mounting them and riding off toward the fast approaching danger as the common people around them let panic rise up and consume what common sense was left. I was separated from Lady Eowyn in the pandemonium as she ushered those around her away. Pushing against shoulders slamming into my own, I craned my neck to try and catch sight of Aeriador in the wave of soldiers cresting the hill. I did not see him. But Legolas stood looking out over the rolling hills. And beyond, dozens of wargs - horrifying dog creatures as large as some horses - bounded over an adjacent ridge. The elf did not flinch, merely let loose two arrows before turning to look at the soldiers finally coming approaching his perch.

The wave of people carried me back. As a mass, we circled wide around the fighting. Everyone ran as hard and as fast as they could, including me. Much sooner than anticipated, Helm’s Deep came into sight across a long stretch of plains. Before long, thankful cries rang out along the procession as we finally made it through the gates into the keep. All the people rushed inside, mingling with the other refugees from villages around Rohan. From across an open section that lay between the mountain and the high wall of the keep, I was relieved to see my brother and Marthay directing the children.

I rushed to them and called, “Are you well?”

Marthay’s hair had come partially undone and now whipped about in the breeze, making her look just as overwhelmed as she sounded. My brother came up as she cried out and rushed over to a pair of children wrestling over a toy. He attempted smiling, but it slipped as he neared. For a moment it looked as though he may fall over. My heart flew up into my throat as I reached out to steady him. At the last second, he caught himself and waved my hands away.

“Viorith…”

“It is nothing sister,” he muttered. “I am merely in need of some food.”

There was a light sweat that had developed on his brow, but it could easily be explained by all the moving of supplies and children from the carts. There was no use in arguing with him. Pressing my palm against his cheek, I urged, “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” he called as I turned to leave.

Heading back into the main keep, I found Eowyn tending to those who had been injured in the mad dash and began helping where I could in tandem with her good example. But every chance I got, I glanced over the walls in the direction we had fled from. Hours passed with no sign of them.

“They will be back soon.” Eowyn said firmly, stopping by my side. The strength in her words was comforting. Not wanting to lose any of that strength by speaking further, we busied ourselves once again with organizing the jostled supplies that had been brought.

The distraction proved to work until the King returned with the remaining soldiers an hour later. All looked a little worse for wear. I dashed forward with Lady Eowyn, and when we neared, she said breathlessly, “So few…so few of you have returned.”

“Our people are safe…” the King replied, moving to help a wounded soldier off his horse. “We have paid for it with many lives.”

Catching sight of the soldier’s grimacing face, I felt my heart stutter. It was Aeriador.

I rushed forward, slipping under his arm to help steady him as he got to his feet. Sucking in a pained breath he muttered, “I hoped you wouldn’t see me like this.”

I shushed him before taking most of his weight. Over my shoulder, I heard Gimli’s gruff voice mutter, “My lady…”

I glanced back and saw her studying his stance with worry in her eye. He shuffled a little under her gaze as she asked tentatively, “Lord Aragorn…where is he?”

The dwarf’s mouth worked for a moment no words escaping, until finally he said voice breaking slightly, “He fell…”

Her eyes grew wide with shock as she turned slowly to look at the King who had said nothing despite also recognizing her feelings. He merely returned her gaze unemotionally as he made his way up the nearby stone steps. I wished to go to her but Aeriador needed my attention. Using my shoulder as a crutch we made our way to the nearest cot. I cleaned his wounds and redressed the gaping slash in his side.

“What happened?” I asked tentatively, part of me not wanting to know how gruesome it truly was.

He glanced at me, judging my face before answering, “Orc scouts and their monsters. Seems they’ve grown bold in their quest for lives to take.”

His hand clamped down on my own as he continued, “I live only because the elf shot the orc bearing down on me.”

Seeing how pale my face became, Aeriador squeezed my hand and urged, “Do not fret, we are behind Helm’s Deep’s Walls now. No army from Mordor or otherwise could get through.”

A small whimper escaped as I struggled to keep from crying. I was so glad that he had not been killed. I could not even fathom what I would do if I found out Viorith and I were the only ones left from our village. It was too lonely and heartbreaking to think about. Struggling to keep the fresh tears at bay, I hung my head. Aeriador leaned over and pressed me into his chest, holding me there until I once again had control over my emotions.

Placing a chaste kiss on the top of my head, he said, “I am well enough now thanks to you. Go, there are others who need your attention.”

I wanted to argue that my skills were not so great as the way he made them sound, but I bit my tongue when I saw the look in his eyes. So full of warmth and love.

Once I released him from my care, I went to find others who needed aid. I found a man squirming in pain with a shard of sword still broken off in his side. In an effort to distract him I asked him to tell me about something. At first it was grim talk as he painted an even more nightmarish picture of the battle than Aeriador had, but then he calmed and spoke of Legolas.

In the midst of his reminiscing, I tugged out the blade and hurriedly pressed a cloth to the freshly opened wound. He writhed against me for a moment.

“Never seen anything like it,” he muttered, fresh tears coursing down his cheeks as I pressed numbing leaves around the wound. “I am glad to know he fights on our side.”

I found Eowyn what felt like days later, but in reality, was only an hour or so, her apron covered in blood and other fluids. Glancing down at my own I found the same sight. She was busy helping with the other wounded. By the focused look in her eyes, I knew she had no wish to speak to me or anyone. Guilt stabbed into my heart as I thought of Aragorn. When it concerned him, I had been the one to encourage her to bare her shy heart. And now it had been broken by his untimely death. I wish I could say I had enough courage to comfort her, but I didn’t. Quietly I moved away, and continued caring for the wounded late into the evening.

My skin felt like it hummed, coupled with the numbness in my head, it was like I was drunk on exhaustion. I leaned against the stone wall, allowing myself to relax after a particularly difficult treatment. As I stood, I surveyed the area. All of those who had come back from the battle now lay either quietly or softly moaning. Some of those I had tended were beyond help and could only be made comfortable as their last hours of life were spent engulfed in pain.

Trying not to let those thoughts consume me, I settled upon going to find some food for myself. My movement came to an abrupt halt however when I saw Legolas sitting hunched on a nearby barrel of dried goods. He rested his head in his hands as if it pained him. Immediately I changed course and strode to his side.

Kneeling, I asked gently, “What ails you?”

The flash of emotion in his eyes betrayed his surprise at my presence. He did not appear injured as I had feared. Lifting his head, he looked at me thoughtfully. Whether those thoughts were good or bad I could not tell. I wiped my hands nervously on my dirtied apron before removing the blood-stained mess entirely.

I stuttered, “I... I could bring you some...something?”

Now he looked as though he could not understand my words. And maybe in this moment of shock, he really couldn’t. Many a soldier that I had seen tonight had not uttered a single word to me. It must be grief for Aragorn.

Standing, I went to get him a goblet of wine. He seemed mildly surprised to see me come back, but took the cup all the same. I then resolved to drag a stool next to him. Unable to let my hands fall idle, I grabbed a nearby basket of clothes that looked to need mending. The thread and needle were on top of the pile. Silently I began patching a hole in a pair of trousers.

After a minute of working, I stole a glance at Legolas and found that he was staring. Clutching the fabric, I mumbled, “It is best if one is not alone when grieving…”

My gut twisted as I thought of Eowyn and her love for the man that Legolas called friend. I could see on his face the same hurt as I spoke of Aragorn. Clearing his throat, he replied, “I do not grieve.”

There was a hint of anger in his voice. Thinking it might be directed at me, I lowered my gaze and set to work on my stitches once again debating whether or not I should leave.

As if he realized how harsh his words had sounded, his posture softened and he continued, “I do not grieve because I do not yet know if he is truly gone from this world. Your king did not allow us to collect him...or any of the other dead.”

I looked up into his clear blue eyes and asked slowly, “So you are waiting for his return?”

He smiled slightly, as if to say he was glad I understood, and answered, “I am.”

It was a hopeful way of looking at something so grim. I found my own lips hesitantly curling up to mirror his smile. Remembering myself however I looked away and busied myself with work. We did not speak again until he had finished his wine, and rose to his feet.

Giving me a short bow, he said, “I wish to know your name. Our first encounter started us off down a less than favorable path.”

“Valene, my Lord.” I answered mechanically, completely taken unawares.

“I am no Lord,” he said cryptically. “Call me Legolas.”

I nodded, not willing to trust my voice any longer. As if my wooden countenance made no difference to him, he unclasped the cloak from around his shoulders and held it out to me. Confusion knitting my brows together, I looked up at him with question in my eyes.

Voice lowering, he asked, “May I leave my cloak with you to be mended?”

Taken aback, I nodded numbly.

“Thank you.” He said, his face softening. I could tell it was thanks for more than just my agreeing to mend his cloak.

“It is no trouble.” I answered quietly.

Bowing, he turned and left. I held his cloak close, the smell of campfire and something subtly sweet wrapped around me. My whole body grew warm, enough so that I feared others around me would be able to feel it. Gathering up the basket, I hurried off to find somewhere I could sleep for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters. See you next week for the next update! <3


	6. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Helm's Deep approaches. What will Valene do to keep everyone safe?

The next morning, before the sun rose, I went to find Eowyn. I’d given her time, but I feared that she would put up walls around herself if I stayed away any longer. I tracked down some tea leaves, made a cup and went to the main building of the keep where the king and other important people would be. I found her sitting on a small bench by a narrow slat that served as a window. It appeared as though she hadn’t gotten any sleep. Moving quietly, I reached out and pressed the steaming cup into her hands. After a quick look at me, she gratefully took a sip.

I sat on the other side of her and said, “Keep hope my lady.”

She wanted to, but I could see that it was difficult. I wanted to tell her what Legolas had told me about the chance that Aragorn may yet live, but it would be cruel of me if that turned out to not be true. So, I settled for keeping her company silently as we watched the sun rise.

Once the noises of people moving about started rising in volume, we headed out to do more work. We checked up on the injured before going to assist moving goods. Midday was approaching when I noticed Eowyn suddenly grow still. She turned as if she heard something and started off away from the heavy tarp we had been lifting. I followed after worryingly, but stopped when I peered over her shoulder and saw a fantastic sight. Aragorn, covered in cuts, bruises, and muck. He stood before Legolas, grinning and alive.

Even the king emerged from the keep, completely taken aback by Aragorn’s presence. They clasped hands, the ranger giving the king an understanding nod. Going up to Eowyn’s side I asked, “Why do you not go to him?”

My face fell as I took in her expression. She looked at him like he was something out of reach. Unable to tear her eyes away she answered quietly, “There is another that dwells in his heart.”

I pulled her away, letting her tell me of the necklace she’d seen and the elven woman that currently traveled to the undying lands. After his near-death experience, I could tell that this was something that she had been putting out of her mind in favor of her own feelings, but now that she had been reminded of heartache, she was unsure she wanted to commit to him. I did not know what to say to her. I would not pretend to be wise on these matters.

Not long after word spread throughout the keep that any man able bodied should prepare himself for battle while women and children make for the caves. An army of orcs was coming to Helm’s Deep and they would be here by nightfall. Eowyn and I did what we could to help shepherd people to where they needed to go, but my heart sank when I saw Calil pushing her way through the crowd toward me.

Curtsying hurriedly to Eowyn she said breathlessly, “Viorith has the beginnings of a fever, and I can’t find him. I’m afraid he’s gone and done something reckless. I’m sorry Valene.”

“Get Marthay and the children and go to the caves,” I said firmly, dropping what I had in my hands.

“I will look after them,” Eowyn said.

Biting my lip, I nodded in thanks before racing off to find my brother.

I went everywhere. Fear and exertion had a sheen of sweat develop heavily along my brow. It wasn’t until I’d spoken with one of the servants that I tracked him down. She said she had seen him coming out of the armory some time ago.

“What have you done?” I muttered under my breath, sprinting in that direction.

I found him slumped against the wall over encumbered by heavy chainmail. Falling to his side, I helped sit him upright and shook him, “Viorith? Are you alright?”

He peered at me blearily, groaning as he recognized my face.

“Leave me, I want to do this.”

“You fool,” I cried, shaking his limp form. “Why did you go and volunteer yourself. You can’t even stand, let alone hold a sword!”

He slumped over unconscious once again. I sat breathing heavily, mind racing with what I should do. Would he be put in prison for not fighting? I couldn’t let him be hurt. Realizing what I needed to do, I curled my fingers into the chainmail draped across his legs. Working quickly so no one saw, I slipped out and snagged some men’s clothing that lay forgotten by one of the many families making their way to the caves, then I went back and shut myself in a nearby storage room.

Before anyone could find me and question my being there, I brushed back my hair, tugged the chainmail over my head, slipped my arms into the sleeves, and shoved the helmet on. Luckily, I was not much smaller than my brother. With our being twins of similar build, the others would have a hard time telling I was a woman and not a man. After double checking that my facial features were hidden, I emerged. 

Bending, I placed my arm around his waist, took up his arm with my other and dragged him to his feet. He groaned in protest, but he was no longer in the right mind to be making any sense. I’d only ever seen him this bad once before. Slinging his arm over my shoulder I headed for the caves where I assumed Calil would be waiting.

Panting as I hauled him closer to the procession leading to the caves I hissed angrily, “You promised you wouldn’t try to be strong.”

I did not realize he was partially conscious. Words slurring as the fever clouded his mind he said, “...didn’t do it for...for you…”

He quieted again but as we went to the entrance to the caves there were soldiers waiting. They approached and said, “Any able-bodied man must report for duty.”

Deepening my voice, I answered, “He is very sick. Unable to fight.”

The soldier strode up to us and gripped my brother by the chin. Turning him so they were facing each other, the soldier studied my brother’s sluggish reaction grumbling to himself. I held my breath, afraid of what I’d have to do if they tried to make him fight. A moment passed. The soldier patted me solidly on the shoulder and ordered me to finish carrying him and report to where I was needed. I made a noise as response; my stomach clenching uncomfortably and quickly dragged my brother away.

Calil and Eowyn stood to the side of the wide doors that led down into the caves. Calil rushed forward when she caught sight of Viorith. Crying she said, “Thank you kind sir, thank you!”

No look of recognition came upon Calil’s face when her eyes passed me over. Her trembling hands took his weight from me. As I was transferring, Eowyn came up from behind, glancing at me curiously. I paled and shook my head when I saw her large blue eyes widen and her lips part in recognition. Calil took Viorith away, chastising his unconscious form. When she was out of earshot Eowyn leant in and whispered, “What are you doing, Valene?”

“Please my lady, say nothing.” I begged, pulling her even further from listening ears. “He had already volunteered his life by the time I found him. They know his name and if he does not show as per his word, then he is as good as dead.”

“I shall go with you,” she said suddenly, her eyes ablaze with determination.

I wished she could. She was worth ten of me in a fight. But that was a selfish wish I could not let happen. She was too precious. The people looked to her now for comfort and safety. Taking up her hand I said in a small voice, “They would see you gone and worry, my Lady. I have chosen my fate. Leave me to it now. Watch over them.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but as my hand squeezed hers, she nodded and said, “I shall see you again.”

Taking one last long look at me, she spun on her heel and followed after Calil. I hung my head bitterly, thinking about how much I did not wish to go. I was afraid. But before the doubt could grow in my breast, I turned and headed back out to search for where I was to be stationed during the upcoming battle and to get my weapon sharpened.

As I removed my blade from its sheath, I heard the harsh call of a familiar voice, “You there!”

I jumped and looked around wildly, dread deadening my heart. My gaze fell on Legolas striding purposefully toward me.

“You are Viorith, brother to Valene?” he asked as he drew near.

I nodded hurriedly, letting my helmet slip a little lower over my eyes. Stopping in front of me, he looked me up and down, confirming for himself that I was in fact a twin. I could tell he was irritated by something that had happened before calling me out. His usually unwavering stoicism was gone as he frowned unconsciously. After an awkward moment I cleared my throat and asked, “If it does not offend, may I ask why you seem upset?”

He seemed startled by my observation, but answered anyway, “We are too few against too many. My companion is content with dying among those that should not have to fight.”

“Aragorn?”

His brow raised and I realized my blunder. My brother had never met them before. Quickly I stammered, “My sister has...has spoken of her encounters.”

Nodding to absently indicate that that was an acceptable answer, he turned and gazed out at the steadily darkening horizon before asking, “Is your sister well?”

My heart fluttered as I replied, “She is. She went to the caves.”

“Good,” he muttered, getting lost in his thoughts for a moment. Even though he wasn’t from Rohan, or even human for that matter, I could tell that the fates of the people here worried him.

“There is still hope,” I reassured softly, mostly saying that for my own benefit as I felt my legs begin to tremble. Aeriador spoke of Helm’s Deep being impregnable. I had to believe that I would live to see my brother again.

Legolas looked at me, brows drawn low over his piercing blue eyes, and not only did I realize that I’d spoken out of turn but I feared that he may have figured out my real identity. Finally, after a moment of my heart thrumming against my ribs he said, “You remind me greatly of your sister...you have the same light.”

I spluttered, embarrassment rendering my mouth useless. Putting a hand on my shoulder he said seriously, “I promise no harm shall come to you. You will see your sister again.”

All at once his spirits seemed lifted. Giving me a small smile, he strode past. I gaped after his retreating back. Every encounter I had with him it felt like I was able to understand him a little better. Very headstrong but with a surprising amount of compassion under his cold exterior.

I avoided Aeriador, knowing that he would try to stop me. It pained me. I wanted to tell him what I’d done so I wouldn’t be alone amidst the other frightened souls, or even embrace him and tell him to stay safe. I had to settle with seeing him from across the way instructing some farmers on how to properly wield a sword. I left to go to where I would be stationed, silently saying everything I couldn’t out loud.

My place was at the far end of the battlements next to many of the others who were novices in combat. I stood, alone in a crowd, nervously wringing my hands. Storm clouds were moving in quickly, I could see the sheets of rain from my vantage point across the plains. How close were the orcs? How many were there? I should have asked Legolas.

A faint clanking sound of metal on metal rang out next to me. Startled from my thoughts, I glanced down at the boy standing at my side. He looked to be barely older than thirteen and unfortunately tall for his age. It explained why they assigned him to stand with those that were to watch the door that led down to the wall below. With thoughts of what horrors may soon transpire, his pale face made him appear even younger. The clanking sound came from his helmet which was even more ill-fitting than mine. The edge struck against the chainmail draped over his head and shoulders, something I’m sure those in the armory thought would fill out the empty space. I pitied him. But mostly I was upset that he was here at all.

“What’s your name, boy?” I asked.

Startled, he jumped, causing the helmet to slip down over his eyes completely. Another pang of worry washed over me at the sight. Pushing it gently back into place he answered, “Giliath, son of Galath.”

I offered up a reassuring smile and said, “Your father must be proud of you.”

He did not reply, the fear creeping into his features again as he glanced in the direction of the long wall below us. Was his father down there on those battlements? What a terrible thing to be so young and out here, separated from your family. Nudging him I slipped the helmet from my own head and offered it to him saying, “Trade? Mine seems a bit too small.”

Giving me a cursory look, he nodded. Pulling off his own helmet, the chainmail underneath slipped, revealing a head of tousled black hair which was unusual for the traditionally fair-haired peoples of Rohan. With shaky hands, he took mine, looking more confident with the new fit. And I was glad. Not that we would come to any fighting, but it comforted me to know that he would have a better chance now that he could see.

Silently, we went back to gazing out at the valley beyond the helms of the men standing in front of us. The rain was almost upon us now. The closer it came, the more uneasy I felt. Suddenly, a mass crested a hill on the left nearly 500 yards away from the keep. All the men around me began whispering and muttering. The boy next to me reached out and snatched up my hand in a vice like grip. But I was not sure this was our enemy. Their numbers were too few compared with what had been rumored.

All watched in tense silence as the procession neared. When they reached the stone walkway that lead to the front gates, the old man in charge of the company of men I belonged to called out, “Open the gates!”

Now intrigued, I leant through the crenellations along with the others to get a better look. As the troupe marched through into the keep, I realized who they were: Elves.

They had words with the King. I could not see all that transpired, but those of us stationed up here received word that Aragorn may be friends with them, and that they were here to fight alongside us. I was unsure as to the arrangement that this may be being made under, but even if Rohan was beholden to these otherworldly beings for an age, I was relieved. We had more numbers now to keep the forces of Isengard at bay.

After the elves were situated along the Deeping Wall, the keep fell into silence once more. The uneasiness was palpable as the rain began to pour down over our heads. Along with rolling thunder came the boom of drums over the hills. At first, I thought it was to make their army seem larger. But then as their immense force crested the horizon and I realized it was because they needed the sound to march to; to keep the sheer number of them in check. My heart dropped and I struggled to take in a breath.

The sharp smell of urine wafted up. Startled, I glanced down at the boy at my side and saw him trembling in a small puddle of his own making. The rain washed it away, leaving only a faint trace.

I gripped his shoulder, “They cannot get past the walls.”

He nodded, looking like he wanted to believe my words.

The sudden sound of thousands of weapons beating against armor made me jump. A single cry rose from the now stagnant lines of orcs. Wiping the rain from my eyes, I glanced down at the Deeping Wall. Where was Aeriador? Where was Legolas? I did not know. All I had was myself and my choice to be here next to these other men. Gripping the simple pommel on the end of my sword, I looked down at Giliath and said pointedly, “I shall protect you.”

The boy’s eyes widened.

Suddenly, the battle cries stopped and turned in time to catch sight of a single orc keel over with an arrow in his neck. There was a moment of silence before the entire force rushed forward as loud as thunder. My breath hitched in my throat. Many around me cried out, a few even dropping their weapons in surprise. Giliath stood frozen, eyes wide as panic overwhelmed all his other senses.

Reaching down and taking up his limp hand, I gave it a squeeze and muttered, “Stay close.”

An indistinguishable cry came from the wall below and a volley of hundreds of arrows was loosed on the approaching hoard. Many orcs fell, but even more took their place. They reached the center of the Deeping Wall first, ladders rising swiftly after. They swarmed up them and started fighting those on the wall. A man that stood to my other side, leant out to see the large creatures below.

Over the clash of metal on metal and the screams of dying men, he cried, “Those are no orcs! Those are Uruks of Mordor!”

“I have heard tell of such creatures, but never imagined it true,” another soldier said behind me, voice thin with fear.

We stood atop the wall of the Hornburg overlooking the battle raging below. Those with bows sent arrows raining down on the enemy waiting to climb the ladders. Without warning, the tide of battle changed as a blast of fire boiled up from under the wall. I screamed and threw my arms up to shield my head. Straightening, I assessed the damage. Bodies lay scattered around the field, the center of the wall was gone, and the orcs were flooding in. Giliath clutched onto my arm as tears poured down his face.

“They will be _here_ soon!”

He said what we were all thinking.

“Not if we can help it, boy.” Our commander growled, showing no pity for his state of nerves. “Ready yourselves, we go to fight!”

What was happening? Numbly, I did as I was told and drew my sword. Us fight? I dragged Giliath behind me as our company moved through the door and down the long stairs that led to the now decimated wall. As we neared the bottom, every sound intensified. Screams of pain and rage rang in my ears as metal met metal and blade met flesh. I forgot to take in air as I gaped at what waited for us. Uruks nearly two heads taller than myself pushed through the rubble with brute force, only stopping when a blade forced them to. I had never seen such blind strength before.

“Retreat Aragorn, fall back to the keep! Get your men out of there!” The order came from atop the wall behind us.

Slowly the men began trickling back to the Hornburg toward my group, stumbling and clutching bleeding wounds.

“Come on men! We must give them time to retreat!” Our commander called. “On to battle!”

My heart pumped painfully as the men around me let out war cries. I swallowed hard as I thought of the boy at my side. As gently as I could, I detached Giliath from my arm and gripped his trembling shoulders. Bending so I looked into his eyes, I said, “Go now. Don’t look back.”

The fear slowed his thinking, but eventually he nodded. Chin trembling, he spun on his heel and slipped in amongst those already climbing the stairs. Without another moment to lose, I spun on my heel and raced after the others. The first wave was small but formidable. The first Uruk that met my blade was already wounded, but it did not diminish his ferocity. For a second, as our eyes met, I wished to turn and run. I had never killed anything resembling a man before in my life. But they were not men. They were abominations.

My instincts and muscle memory from practice with Eowyn took over. I ran in under its arms and thrust deep into its belly. Black blood spurted out coating my hands. The sensation almost made me drop the hilt in disgust. But the sound of its roar made my fingers clamp down and wrench it out. The orc fell on its face, rusted axe clattering to the stone. I did not have time to either relish or be bothered by what I had just done. Another Uruk was fast approaching, chasing down a wounded elf.

It seemed the onslaught of enemies would not end. And still elves and men continued to trickle in. I did not keep track of how many I killed. My arms were growing numb with fatigue. Those around me also felt the repercussions of fatigue as one took a spear to his shoulder and another had his throat ripped out.

“Back men, back! They have shores ready for the door! Retreat!”

I felt myself torn. There were still so many wounded struggling to save themselves. If we abandoned them now, they would be subject to a gruesome fate. And then I thought of my brother waiting for me.

“Damn,” I cursed, rushing alongside the retreating soldiers.

I went as far as I could before the prickling of the hairs on the back of my neck alerted me to the approaching danger from behind. I turned. An elf struggled to limp up the stairs just below, the fear in his face intensifying as he looked over his shoulder and saw an orc bearing down on him. He looked like Aeriador. My feet moved on instinct. Bellowing something, I ran at the creature and slammed my blade into its chest. My forward momentum was cut short and I was horrified to see that it did not die. I watched as it raised its own blade in turn.

The crunch of bone and the sudden appearance of an arrow tip punching through its forehead startled me into moving. As it slumped over, a familiar figure stood over its corpse; Legolas. He was safe. Gimli stood behind him, slamming his axe into another orc’s back. When the elf recognized me as being familiar through the black blood covering it, he strode forward.

Stooping to sling the injured elf’s arm over his shoulder he jerked his head in the direction of the keep and commanded, “Go.”

I nodded and spun around, running up the steep steps, screaming for the doors to be held open. Once inside, I stood gasping. Soon after Legolas, the injured elf, Gimli, and a few other stragglers slipped through. The door was shut and soldiers began hurriedly barricading it. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I heard the men trapped on the other side banging on the door screaming to be let in.

A short while after their panicked cries were cut short, blood began to seep under the door. My stomach churned at the sight, making me feel like I was about to be sick. Turning so that I could no longer see, I met the blue-eyed gaze of Legolas.

“You were brave to do that,” he muttered.

Letting my helmet fall over my eyes, I replied rhetorically, “Brave?”

He blinked slowly before reaching out and asking softly, “Are you injured?”

I shook my head, hoping he couldn’t feel me trembling.

The sound of a battering ram splintering the wood of the gate was loud. I started violently. Getting a firm grip on his bow, Legolas started up the path that would take him to the wall overlooking the gate. Noticing that I hadn’t moved he called back, “With me.”

Swallowing hard, I grabbed an abandoned bow from the ground and did as he said. When we were above, I peered over the parapets and saw Aragorn and Gimli below, fighting back the orcs. I then noted the splintered front gate. They fought so our men had time to shore up the broken wood.

Shouts of horror rose up around us suddenly. I turned just in time to witness an enormous grappling hook slamming into a small cluster of men, catching one directly in the center of his chest. Following the rope with my eyes down to the sea of orcs below, I caught sight of an enormous ladder they were preparing to raise as another hook came hurtling up.

“Shoot as many as you can,” Legolas said, catching my attention. “Keep them off Aragorn and Gimli.”

I nodded to show him I understood. He urged the others around us to do the same, then he turned and took careful aim through the crenellations. In the next instant as the ladder rose into the air, he shot and his arrow cut straight through one of the ropes.

Looking back to Aragorn and the dwarf fighting below, I knocked an arrow. My arm shook as I struggled against the tension in the string. This was nothing like the practice bow Eowyn had given me. My arm trembled fiercely as I knocked my arrow and pulled back. It missed. As did my second shot. My third struck the leg of one orc which was quickly batted away.

Legolas returned to my side just as one of the Uruk shoved through the ranks and snatched Aragorn and Gimli up by their throats. Worry filled his voice as Legolas called, “Aragorn!”

The ranger broke free, stabbing at the orc so it released the dwarf. Turning to look up at his friend, he saw Legolas as the elf stooped to pick up a pile of rope. Legolas sprang up so he stood atop the wall fully exposed, and handed me the back end of the rope. Tossing down the other end to his friends, I watched in amazement as Aragorn and Gimli grabbed it and barely swung away in time to avoid the edges of rusted blades and grasping hands. Noticing this, others around me helped pull the pair to safety.

Just as soon as we tugged them up and over, the sound of an orc bellowing and a man screaming reached my ears. I spun on my heel and caught sight of the orcs pulling themselves over the wall. The men at the top of the ladders were being overrun. Dropping the bow, I unsheathed my sword once more. There were so many.

All at once the loud crash of wood splintering came from below. The gate was broken. Fresh fear coursed through me as cries of retreat rang out, mixing with the sound of men dying. I was immediately swept up in the throng running toward the main hall. I cried out, but my small voice was swallowed by louder ones. I tried getting control of where my body was going. All that I managed to do was make those around me upset enough to shove me to the side. I lost my footing and I tumbled forward. My head cracked against the nearby wall. The blow was softened by the helmet, but as the metal met with stone, it abruptly sprang from my head and bounced away, revealing my matted curls. My vision doubled and swayed.

A shoulder clipped my own and sent me to my knees. I shrank against the wall in an effort to avoid being trampled. When the crowd had thinned enough, I looked up. Blinking, I caught sight of an orc bearing down on a young man not much older than me. He was disarmed and wounded. The tingle of familiarity nagged at the back of my hazy thoughts until they cleared enough and I finally recognized him. Aeriador.

Pushing off the wall, I gripped my sword hilt tightly and sprinted to his side. I got there just as the orc was preparing to strike him down. Our blades clashed. I faltered under the weight and was caught off guard as the orc raised the dagger at its side. The blade raked down my left arm. A searing pain radiated from where my flesh was cut open. I screamed, my sword dropping from my now useless hand as blood gushed in an arch. The pommel of its sword came down and smashed against the side of my face. I could feel the bones in my cheek crack as my legs crumpled under me.

The right side of my face was already beginning to swell as I rolled onto my side. Sneering down at me, thick spittle dribbling over its pronounced bottom lip, the orc raised its blade once more.

“Valene!”

From out of the corner of my eye, I could see Legolas’ horror-stricken face as he struggled to push through the throng of soldiers to get back to me. He had used my real name. He knew who I was. He yelled something, but I couldn’t hear.

As I lay prone underneath the orc, I said silent goodbyes to everyone I knew and loved. The orc’s muscles rippled as it swung to deliver the death blow. At the last second, something crossed my vision and a weight fell over me. I winced, waiting for pain. But it never came. I looked up in confusion and shock and first saw the arrow sunk deep into the orc’s skull. Then I noticed Aeriador lying on top of me, the massive sword buried in his back.

“No!” I wailed as he coughed blood.

He barely had enough strength left to hold himself up. Gazing down at me, a weak smile tilted the corners of his mouth. More blood trickled out as he ran his gloved fingers clumsily along the side of my face. His lips moved. I could see my name there. Panicked, I reached up and dug my fingers into his chainmail. A stray tear fell from his eyes as the words he wished to tell me died on his lips. They rolled before fluttering closed as the life left him. He tilted to the side, collapsing onto the wet stone with a thud.

Tears sprang to my eyes as he fell. But I didn’t want to believe he was dead. He couldn’t be. My shaking hands shook him as I screamed his name, as if that could wake him from the deep sleep that had a hold on him. A pair of hands caught me up under my arms and yanked me away. I cried and kicked, scrabbling to get back, but the person was stronger than me. I didn’t stop struggling until I had lost sight of Aeriador’s motionless body lying on the stone.

I couldn’t breathe.

The doors of the main hall slammed shut behind us. Legolas who had been the one to carrying me off, pulled me against his chest, holding me close as what few men made it inside rushed to barricade the doors. The pain in my arm intensified and I cradled it close to my body, sobbing. Working quickly, Legolas tore a banner from the wall and ripped off a strip which he then wrapped around the wound. After staunching the flow of blood, he left me to help the men carry a heavy wooden bench for bracing the door. I fell back against a nearby wall and slid down.

“The fortress is taken!” King Theoden called from across the room. “It is over.”

I gazed over at him, disbelief quickly rising past my grief. Who was this coward that stood before me?

“You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it,” Aragorn cut in, his voice harsh. “They still defend it; they have died defending it!”

Gritting my teeth in pain, I stood once more. As I staggered over to the doors, I pushed down the thoughts of Aeriador and instead focused on the reason why I’d taken my brother’s place to begin with, something the King seemed to have forgotten. Reaching the doors, I found a place next to another soldier and braced my good shoulder against the wood. Just as I did, what felt like a dozen bodies slammed into the other side. I grimaced in pain, but continued to hold my position. Legolas caught my eye as he passed, and I could see my pain reflected on his face. Not just the physical. He knew that the man who had just sacrificed himself for me was important.

A fresh wave of tears burst forth and flowed down my dirtied cheeks as something crashed against the wood, shaking dust from the cracks with the force of the blow. I could hear the wood splitting already.

“Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?” Aragorn asked urgently. When the king did not answer, Aragorn turned and asked again, “Is there no other way?”

The king stood silently, staring at Aragorn as if to say he was foolish for even trying to save them now. When it looked like the king would continue to not answer, Gamli, the last remaining soldier with authority cleared his throat and answered hesitantly, “There is one passage, it leads into the mountains. But they will not get far, the Uruk-hai are too many.”

My heart sank and I hung my head. I turned and sought out Legolas again, finding him bracing against the other door, also looking to me. For a moment we looked across the gap at each other. Could he hear my secret pains as clearly as I imagined he could? Could he hear that they were full of regrets and murdered wishes.

“So much death,” the king mumbled disparagingly. “What can men do against such reckless hate?”

Aragorn was silent for a moment before saying suddenly, “Ride out with me.”

All heads turned to the ranger. From where I stood, I could see the fire of determination alight in his eyes. It swelled in my own belly as I listened.

“Ride out and meet them,” he continued passionately.

“For death and glory,” Theoden answered, his gaze still darkened.

“For Rohan,” Aragorn answered. “For your people.”

_To give the people of Rohan time to escape_ , I thought sitting up a little straighter.

With those last words, the king seemed to understand. Those remaining were set to work getting horses ready for one last battle.

Legolas came to my side and gently tugged me away. I tried to protest, but he cut in, “You need better bandaging if you are to ride with us.”

“My Lord –” I started, but stopped when he cut me off by sternly sitting me down.

I was completely taken aback. He did not want to argue that I should go to the caves. He did not want to talk at all. If any other man had discovered my true identity, I would have been announced at once, and then promptly put into custody. Eowyn came to mind. When she told me of her encounter with Aragorn in the great hall. I understood now what she meant when she said he had treated her as an equal.

With gentle but precise movements, he undid the already soaked through cloth around my arm and began replacing it with new strips. This time he took the time to wrap it tightly and securely. By the time he was finished I was able to take hold of a sword once more. Looking up into his pale eyes, I silently said what I couldn’t bring myself to speak aloud: _thank you_.

Unfortunately, the blank nature of his face afforded me no absolution.

The sound of the doors beginning to splinter rang through the hall. Legolas pulled away, drawing his bow as he did, and stood guard while soldiers mounted their steeds. Lastly, the doors were abandoned as the last of the men saddled up. My heart began pounding in my chest in time to the door being rammed. As the final blow came and the doors were flung open, I let out a primal shout.

After such a long day of fear and loss, never before had I felt as free and ready to die as I did then.

We charged. I swung ferociously as we galloped through the throng of orcs that had congregated outside the doors of the hall. They had not expected us to cut headlong through them. We rode straight out the front gate of the keep and out to where the hundreds of orcs still filled the valley. Despite the sight frightening me to my very marrow, as I looked up at the others ahead of me, I felt a rush of determination.

We fought for what felt like hours. My arm began to cramp enough that each swing of my sword was excruciating.

“Look!” cried one of the soldiers nearest me. I spun in my saddle and saw a pure white horse rearing atop the steep slope of a nearby hill.

“The wizard,” I uttered in astonishment. Gandalf had returned.

The Uruk, sensing a new threat, turned and faced the lone rider as well. As I watched, another came up by his side with a familiar helm atop his head.

Eomer’s strong voice echoed across the valley: “Rohiram! To the King!”

What looked like hundreds of riders appeared atop the ridge, answering their commander. I found myself smiling in relief, tears streaming down my face as they rode down the slope as one. The thunderous roar of their charge swelled. As they neared the waiting orcs at the base of the hill, the sun broke over the hillside, engulfing the whole valley in blinding white light. Squinting against the rays, a laugh settled in my chest.

It wasn’t long after that I heard the sound of Theoden crying triumphantly, “ _Victory_!”

I looked up and saw the retreating backs of the Uruk warriors.

We rode after them, cutting down as many as we could until we came to a line of trees. My brows drew together in confusion as I heard more than one voice call out for us to fall back and not enter the forest. The long line of riders sat and watched as the last of the orcs disappeared beyond the tree line. After a brief pause, I saw the canopy begin to sway and dip like angry waves in a storm. Shrieks of pain and terror echoed back as whatever had possessed the traveling woods killed the remaining evil creatures.

Exhaustion finally caught up with me. Blood flowed freely from under my soaked bandages, coating my hand in crimson. The sword dropped from my numb fingers. I sat hunched on my saddle, letting the sounds of the men cheering fade into the background. I thought about how long this night had been; hopeless and painful. I thought of Aeriador.

I could no longer hold myself up. My eyes closed and I slumped over in my saddle. But I did not fall. Arms circled around my shoulders and caught me. Struggling to open my eyes, I looked up and saw Legolas supporting my weight.

His eyes were the last thing I saw before everything faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this update! Lot of action, lot of sad. See you next Saturday!! <3


	7. His Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valene adjusts to life after the Battle of Helm's Deep.

~o~

“Valene? Can you hear me?”

I blinked, squinting as the sun’s rays spilled into my eyes.

“She wakes!”

I groaned as the pain all over my body became apparent.

“Do not try to move, fool sister,” Viorith said, somewhere close to me. “Save your strength.”

I ignored his words and instead reached out blindly for his hand. He caught mine and took it up immediately, giving a gentle squeeze as he did. The sun was blocked momentarily as he leant over and placed a kiss on my forehead.

Finally, I opened my eyes. Viorith looked well. His face was pale and covered in sweat from fever, but his eyes were clear. Seeing him after everything, I felt my eyes sting with relief. Large tears dropped from the corners of my eyes as I lay staring up at him.

I choked out, “I am so glad to see you.”

Tears of his own fell as he brushed the hair back from my face and whispered, “As am I.”

I cried for some time, ignoring everything and everyone as I mourned for my life that had forever been changed. At some point I managed to tell Viorith about Aeriador and we cried together. He thought as I did. We were the last of our village.

Shortly after, I fell unconscious once again. When I next woke, it was sometime in the morning. I could feel the chill in the air, despite being bundled up. The cart that I lay inside rocked gently. My throat felt as if I had screamed a thousand words into a blackened night. Struggling to moisten my throat, I looked around and caught sight of my brother next to me.

Parting my cracked lips, I asked hoarsely, “Where are we?”

“We are journeying home,” he answered, looking guiltily over my shoulder.

With a great deal of effort, I turned my head and followed his gaze. There, sitting with her legs delicately folded under her was Eowyn, looking as though she was struggling between wanting to yell at or hug me.

“I am so glad you are alright,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Trembling slightly, I reached out for her hand. She looked at it, still struggling between anger and relief. After a moment she made a small sound in her throat and squeezed my fingers in her own.

They both told me I had been asleep for three days before waking up yesterday. In that time, the king and a handful of his men rode off to Isengard to finish what Saruman had started. It turned out that the deadly trees from before had been Ents from Fangorn Forrest. The tree beings told the king that they had trapped Saruman in his tower and taken out the remaining orc forces there.

I faded in and out of consciousness as we rode back to Rohan. Viorith and Eowyn went to great lengths to take care of me. While I rested, I struggled against thinking of Aeriador. When night fell, and the air grew still and quiet, I found that nightmares came to haunt my dreams. My small voice would be swallowed by shadows that undulated with unnatural life around me. Clawed hands grasped from the darkness, tugging at my hair and skin and burning upon contact. Aeriador’s face emerged from the cacophony, bloody and screaming.

I woke to cold air rushing across my exposed body. Somehow, I had managed to kick my blankets away. The moon rose in the clear sky. Gasping for air and shivering, I realized that I had been trapped in a dream, and nothing more. As I felt the blankets settle back over my trembling body, I saw Viorith looking upon me sadly.

He lay down next to me and whispered, “Tell me what happened.”

It wasn’t really a question. And I desperately wished to ignore it. The look in his eyes said plainly enough that he blamed himself for my being like this. A part of me wanted him to believe that as penance for the state I was in. Biting my lip, I whimpered and shut my eyes. His cool hand reached out and cupped my bruised and broken cheek as he repeated what he had said. I leaned into his touch and took a deep breath. 

“It was horrible,” I began quietly. “When they came over the hills it was like they were the wolves and we were the sheep…I have never been more frightened in all my life.”

He was silent, waiting for me to continue. I told him all about what I had experienced. The sights, the sounds, the smells, everything. Aeriador was difficult to talk about. I didn’t describe everything about what happened to him, and Viorith did not pry. By the end I felt like a great weight had been lessened on my heart. It was still there, but easier to bear now that I had shared some of the load.

“Lady Eowyn thinks of you as a hero,” he mumbled, smiling with a faint hint of his usual mischievous nature. It was so good to see him looking well again.

“I am no hero.”

The words stung my lips as soon as they passed them, but I could not take them back. Viorith knew. He could see all that had happened in my eyes. I could not stand to see myself reflected in his regrets any longer. Trying to change the subject I asked, “Do others know what I have done?”

“No,” he replied quietly. “They think _I_ am a proud warrior, and that _you_ are but a clumsy handmaid that fell and hurt yourself in the caves.”

I could hear the bitterness in his voice. It hurt me to hear it, but again, I could not scold him. The hurts were still too fresh. Curling my fingers into his sleeve I said, more for my own comfort than his, “Then you are safe from judgement.”

For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to say something. But as quickly as the anger flashed into his eyes, it dissipated.

“Do you resent me?” I asked, voice trembling.

His features softened even further at my words. Taking up my hands he shook his head. I did not find relief in his denying. I was not sure I ever would, because he had shown what he had truly been feeling under all his joking and quiet acceptance from years past. I did not think I would ever be able to trust him again.

“Would you sing me to sleep? I shall not be able to otherwise.”

Turning my head to motion to the spot on the cart next to me, I carefully adjusted my position as much as I could and silently pleaded with him for a bit of normalcy.

He obliged, resting his arm across my midriff as he did. I listened to his quiet song, an old favorite that he used to sing with mother when we were children. After a while I feigned sleep. Soon his words grew slow, and then they ceased entirely. Opening my eyes after a few minutes, I gazed up at the stars overhead, and resumed my silent battle against the newly imagined nightmares lurking just out of my sight.

It was another fortnight after we arrived in Edoras before Theoden and the others returned. I was doing much better. Despite being unable to see out of my swollen right eye or use my left arm, I was able to sit up on my own. I kept Lady Eowyn company when she was inside. While she was going through the streets of Edoras, I remained behind, resting. The morning the war party procession arrived, I sat inside the golden hall while she stood on the terrace overlooking the valley.

“Does she care for the ranger?”

I jumped at Eomer’s sudden appearance. Glancing up, I saw that he looked out to his sister, concern drawing his brows together so a deep line ran between them. I wasn’t sure if I should say. He seemed to understand and looked me over, his eyes lingering on my bruised face and bandaged arm.

“Are you well?”

“As well as I can be my Lord,” I answered with a faint smile.

Taking the seat next to me, he leaned so his elbows rested on his knees and said, “My sister told me what happened to the young man from your village.”

I stiffened as he mentioned Aeriador.

Giving me another long, hard look, he continued, “I am truly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, glancing away as tears suddenly sprang up.

Wiping at them quickly, I turned back to face him and saw the sincerity in his expression. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him look at me like that before.

The strange moment between us was broken as Eowyn came in. Peering at how close we were, she gave her brother a cryptic look before turning to me and saying Theoden was on the horizon.

Dozens of people helped fill the golden hall with food, drink, and music. We were to celebrate our victory. Processions came and went, bringing freshly slaughtered meat and barrels of ale and wine. I saw no trace of Legolas and felt apprehension following my every move as I went about my business. Was he alright? How could I face him after everything that happened?

I overheard some of the other servants talking about him receiving quarters in the royal guest house along with the other members of his party and two Hobbits. Relief flooded my body. Enough that I had to find a quiet place to sit for a moment. Should I avoid him? Why am I so relieved he is back?

What felt like all of Edoras gathered in the golden hall as the sun sank below the horizon. Theoden stood before his throne holding a golden goblet aloft.

“Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country,” he called, looking around at all the faces before him. “Hail the victorious dead!”

As the call of ‘hail the victorious dead’ echoed back, Aeriador once again came to the forefront of my mind. It was hard to enjoy the merriment and feasting after that. I was glad for my brother and Eowyn to distract me. Even the children came up to enjoy good food before being ushered away by Marthay and Calil for bed. The most welcome distraction however, came from the two Shire Folk that had been brought back. For everyone, not just me. Their blissful ignorance made it easy to spread a modicum of happiness to those who were needing it after what happened at Helm’s Deep. I noticed Viorith’s cheeks ruddy with drink and laughter as he clapped his hands in time to the small men’s song and dance atop one of the long tables.

I smiled, sipping on my second glass of honeyed wine, and glanced around the room. I noticed Aragorn looking bathed and well clothed across the hall and Eowyn approaching with a goblet. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as I watched their exchange. It made me glad to see her so bold, and to see that be accepted.

I curled my fingers around the handle of a pitcher full of wine for my next drink when my attention was caught by a glimmering sheen of silver hair. My breath caught in my throat and my cheeks warmed. Legolas stood tall and straight, his hair shining like starlight on a cloudless night over his shoulders. In his pale tunic, he looked young and fearless and otherworldly. It struck me that this was the first time I was seeing him as a prince of elves and not just an exotic, albeit well-worn, traveler. His eyes glittered with amusement as Gimli said something into his ear, and suddenly I felt out of place – despite being surrounded by joy and the people that I cared about. I missed Aeriador. Someone of my station that I had promised myself to. That I _should_ be with instead of pining after elven lords.

I was so caught up in my self-deprecating thoughts that I did not realize I had been staring. Suddenly I focused on the light of Legolas’ eyes that were trained on me; grey-blue and clear as a winter’s evening. I felt my throat go dry.

“Here, more drink for you,” a voice suddenly said, snapping me out of my panicked trance.

I started and looked up into Eomer’s smiling face just as his hand brushed against my own and took the pitcher. He did not seem to notice my blush as I ducked my head and accepted him pouring my glass.

“Are you well enough to dance?” he asked, stooping so he could steal a look at my face.

“I - I do not - I am not- “I stuttered, shooting a glance over at Legolas who still stood with eyes fixed on me.

“Do not worry, lean on me as much as you need,” Eomer said kindly, taking my clammy hand in his. Unable to find the words to protest, I let him lead me.

We danced. The drink that I’d quickly downed before was making me feel light, as if I could float away at any moment. At the same time, the effect of the others around us spinning like tops had me dizzyingly grounded in the space we occupied; like a leaf caught up in the whirlpool of a river. I caught sight of Legolas’ intense gaze from across the room as I twirled on my toes, still looking through me like he could see all of who I was. It was overwhelming. I was much too warm.

Eomer noticed and supported more of my weight while he asked, “Are you well?”

Nodding, I gave him a small smile, and gently pulled away. As I slipped into the crowd I called back faintly, “I am in need of some air.”

Pressing my cold hand against the side of my sweating brow, I staggered through the party goers, ignoring calls of my name as I went. Quickly, I strode out onto the stone terrace that overlooked Edoras.

It was a cold evening, something that was very welcomed as I let my overwarm body cool. The light breeze coming from the mountains felt like a mother’s hand on my forehead in the midst of a blistering fever.

Trying to calm myself, I rubbed at my throbbing arm and looked to the south east, in the direction of Gondor. From here all I could see was mountains. But I could imagine what the great city of white looked like. I’d heard enough stories to be able to paint an elaborate picture in my head. For a while, losing myself in this soothing daydream worked to calm. But then my thoughts turned down a darker path, to the black lands beyond Minas Tirith. I was in danger of reliving Helm’s Deep as images of the monstrous Uruk-hai rose up from the fire and shadow.

“May I speak with you?”

Turning sharply only worsened the dizziness that still clung to me. It was Legolas that had spoken, the golden light from the hall behind him casting a warm glow around his silhouette.

Swallowing past the sudden dryness in my throat I nodded hesitantly.

He took a step closer, gliding across the ground until he settled next to me.

“Do your wounds heal well?”

“They do,” I answered hoarsely, self-conscious of what the multi colored bruises on my face must look like. “I am told that my arm will scar, but mending your cloak has been my means of strengthening it. I...I am sorry it is taking so long.”

Finally, he looked at me. The muscles in my shoulders relaxed and my hands unclenched. His features softened, and became amused when I mentioned his cloak.

Clasping his hands behind his back he smiled, “You share a resemblance with someone from Mirkwood.”

The kingdom that he stood to inherit. I wondered what kind of person I could possibly reminded him of. It seemed difficult to believe that a lowly human could compare with an elf.

“Is that a compliment, my Lord?” I wondered, more to myself than him.

The way he carried himself with such casual elegance, I found myself feeling familiar with him. I could ask these questions as though we were equals. It didn’t help that the alcohol still dulled my mind. I stiffened, realizing my mistake too late. The sound of his laughter however, quickly chased away any thoughts of repercussions of my impudence.

Taking yet another step closer he answered, “I meant it as such.”

To my utter astonishment, he reached up and caught a stray curl that escaped from my braid and twirled it between his fingers. He stared at it for a moment before looking directly into my eyes and saying in a low voice, “Call me Legolas.”

A small sound escaped from my lips as I struggled to comprehend what was happening. As I stood stock still, I thought about the moments we’d shared together thus far. Despite some of them being less than cordial, I realized that each time there had been something unsaid between us that had been building. And now that he was standing in front of me, looking at me like a man looked at a woman, I allowed myself to recognize and accept that it was there. Unexpected guilt stabbed through my heart as I remembered Aeriador and all the hopes I’d had for our possible future together.

I turned away, struggling to keep the trembling of my bottom lip under control.

_Why did you sacrifice so much for a fickle fool like me?_ I wondered, thinking of Aeriador’s gaze which had been so full of love for me before his death.

Legolas seemed to read my thoughts as he asked softly, “The man who gave his life for you...you knew him well?”

“We…we were to be married…” I answered, fingernails digging into my palms as I struggled to refrain from weeping.

He nodded silently, standing resolutely at my side as I cried. After some time, his hand reached out across the space between us and ran gently along the length of my injured arm, pausing before he reached my fingers. I glanced down in surprise before tilting my head up at him in question.

Even though shadow from the light in the hall obscured some of his face, I could still make out the sincerity in the look he gave me. It made him appear vulnerable, something that was out of place when he was so naturally otherworldly. My heart beat horribly fast, but I couldn’t pull away. He looked like he wanted to say more, but without a word, stepped back, letting his hand fall to his side.

Eomer emerged from the golden hall then, looking around before seeing me standing on the edge of the terrace. His face fell slightly as he caught sight of Legolas so close. Shooting the Elf a strange, territorial look, Eomer came to my side and angled his body so Legolas seemed even further away.

Peering down he asked, “Are you feeling unwell? You left the dance so suddenly, I was concerned.”

I felt embarrassed and confused.

“No, my Lord,” I answered quietly. “The drink left me a little hazy.”

“Come then, you need something to eat,” Eomer said, placing his hand at the small of my back as he guided me back to the hall. He gave Legolas a cold but polite nod. Legolas’ eyes darkened slightly as he watched us go.

Eomer sat me next to my brother and supplied me with a plate of roast duck, sliced apples, and goat cheese. I nibbled on it passingly as he kept me company. We talked, but I found my attention wandering elsewhere. Eventually, I could concentrate no longer and bade him farewell. He seemed disappointed that I was turning in so early, but did not say as much. Getting to his feet, he escorted me through the crowd to the hall that would take me to my room, took up my hand and placed a lingering kiss there. I could hear some of those around us who noticed, exchange whispers behind their hands. I blushed, curtsied, and left swiftly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines day everyone! Big love to those of you that have reviewed! It makes my day every time I look at them! <3


	8. Walk With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of last night, Valene's mind is a confused mess. But after a quiet moment outside the walls of Edoras, how will her relationship with Legolas change?

The next morning, I turned over in bed to find that I had developed a slight headache. I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt at chasing it away. Last night had been a whirl of emotions. Legolas’ and Eomer’s actions made little sense. My dreams had featured Aeriador’s face coughing up blood and smiling at me once more, most disappointingly reminding me that I was servant girl who had barely begun to mourn for the man she had hoped to marry.

I fled my small, dark room needing open space.

Darkness still clung to the sky as I made my way to the well to fetch water for Eowyn and myself to use for washing up. A thin fog caused me to shiver and draw my shawl closer around my shoulders. Something felt wrong. Lowering the bucket into the echoing shaft of the well, I felt an uneasy weight settle back onto the base of my neck, reigniting the headache that already beat in my temples. Working quickly, I filled the bucket, hauled it up, and rushed back past any shadows along my path. I did not wish to be alone for any longer than I had to.

Once back inside the golden hall, I was surprised to see that there was a commotion. Gandalf stood tall, clutching his staff and gazing at the other members of his company and King Theoden. What happened? They continued speaking heatedly, just quiet enough that I couldn’t hear. I slipped by trying to stay unnoticed, but found that the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I didn’t need to look to see who was watching me.

Tucking my chin closer to my chest, my feet carried me swiftly back to Eowyn’s room. I pushed in, keeping my movements controlled and quiet.

“My Lady,” I said, gently rousing her from her slumber.

She did not take long to wake. I informed her of the strange meeting in the hall that I’d witnessed. Striding over to her wardrobe, she started looking through her choices of dresses for the day, completely calm. I asked, “Why are you not worried?”

Her hands stilled as she said, “It is because they are talking that I am composed. They are working to rid the lands of this evil, together. There is hope yet.”

I nodded in understanding.

After a few minutes of content silence, she muttered, “We have not visited the children in quite some time.”

“No, we have not.”

“Shall we spend the day with them, then?” she asked over her shoulder.

I smiled, nodding.

Once I finished braiding her hair back, we set out for the cottage. I did not see any trace of Gandalf or Legolas or anyone else in the golden hall. We made our way down the slope slowly, Eowyn greeting commoners that crossed our path as she went. The sky had cleared in the hour or so since I’d gone out to get water. The sense of dread no longer lingered in the air. When we reached the bottom of the slope, the loud sound of horse hooves on the earth came up swiftly from behind. We moved to the side in time to see Gandalf tearing by on his horse toward the front gate.

“What could be calling him away so urgently?” Eowyn thought out loud, watching after his white silhouette until he disappeared out of view.

This must be something to do with the argument I’d seen in the golden hall. I felt my mind spinning with dark thoughts as we headed through the front door of the orphanage. Thankfully the multiple cries of little voices greeting us, chased those away. They hurtled around the corner as a group, nearly sweeping Calil’s legs out from under her as she prepared breakfast. I chuckled and smiled warmly as I was bombarded with pulling hands. The pair of us were dragged into the next room. Marthay sat in her chair by the fire, mending something.

She smiled when she caught sight of us and called, “Welcome, welcome!”

“How have you been?” I asked as Eowyn was dragged to one side of the house where the children had been making new dolls to play with. “Where is my brother?”

She waved her hand and said, “There is no need to worry after any of us. We are just fine. He went out to trade for some meat a short while ago, he will be back soon.”

I nodded, settling in and picking up another tattered garment to be mended, and watched as Eowyn played happily with the children. That was how our morning was spent; in familiar normalcy. When Viorith returned and saw that we were visiting, he grew excited and explained that he’d gotten extra food from his trade with the butcher and proposed that we have another celebration with the children.

“They did not stay long last night, and I believe they feel left out. Something to distract them from what happened would be good for them.” He explained, rubbing salt on the meat.

“That sounds wonderful,” I said glancing to Eowyn silently asking if it would be alright for me to stay behind.

She agreed excitedly and started corralling the children, telling them that they would get a surprise if they finished their chores for the day and cleaned the house. Many of them couldn’t believe the good fortune of two good things in two days and worked furiously to do as she said.

“They will be spoiled,” Calil smiled.

“As they should be,” Viorith replied with a grin. “Too many of their days have been spent worrying.”

When the night drew nearer, Eowyn came to Viorith and me and told us to bring the children to the front gates just after sundown. With a smile bright on her face, she left. Viorith raised a brow at me. I shook my head and continued working on packing up the food we had spent most of the day preparing. My expectation had been that she would leave for her chambers much earlier.

Before sundown, we shepherded the children to the front gate, trying to keep them contained as their excitement threatened to turn them into unruly charges. Eowyn stood waiting for us, a stack of thick woolen blankets clutched in her arms. Passing them out she said, “Come now, our celebration waits outside these walls.”

“Outside the walls?” I asked Viorith quietly, worry creeping into my voice. “Why out there?”

He shrugged, patting me comfortingly on the back. I trailed after, wondering if Eowyn had gotten a guard of men to accompany us. I followed worriedly behind the procession, watching as the children danced and ran over the grassy hills. Those in the lead followed the scent of a campfire. As I turned the corner around the eastern wall, I saw the spectacular flames and the men attending it. Lady Eowyn came up to my side and said, “Lord Aragorn was kind enough to offer his services keeping watch.”

I could see him from this distance, reclining against a rock as Gimli tossed another log on the fire. The small stature of a hobbit was also easy to pick out. But my eyes lingered on Legolas as he carried an armful of wood to the already substantial pile.

All the children were circling the fire making sounds of amazement and gazing in awe at the unusual people waiting for them. They were particularly entranced by the hobbit Merry. He was their height, but clearly not the same age. They immediately brought over the basket of food to him and began asking questions. Looking eager for the food and the chance to talk about where he came from, he settled in and beckoned the children closer.

I helped spread the blankets and eventually took a seat between Eowyn and my brother, listening as the shireling regaled us with tales of his adventures and painted beautiful pictures of his home in the north. He was entertaining and energetic and just as good a distraction as he’d been last night. I laughed on more than one occasion as he reenacted what the Ent called Treebeard was like when their paths first crossed.

Eowyn muttered that she was going to go speak with Aragorn a moment, and stood, making her way to where he lay puffing absently on his pipe. When she was gone, I glanced over at Legolas, who sat on the other side of the fire, holding one of the children in his lap. It seemed that he was not used to children. He looked stiff and unsure. Not that any of them minded. It only added to their curiosity. His eyes turned to me, and we looked at each other a moment. I quickly let my gaze drop to the ground beneath my feet. Last night’s event came swelling up from my chest, making my face warm.

“They are stronger than Trolls, Ents are; bones of the earth.” Merry said. “They can split stone like the roots of trees – only quicker – far quicker, if their minds are roused. They are –”

“Do you know any songs, Master Hobbit?” one of the girls asked suddenly, clutching her doll tightly to her chest.

“Oh, he knows plenty,” Gimli answered with a chuckle, jostling the children trying to braid the long hair of his beard.

“Sing us a cheerful song!”

“Alright then,” he said happily, jumping to his feet and starting a quick stepped stomping dance.

“ _The long winter was so solemn_

_But summer is a comin’_

_Loud sing cuckoo._

_Growin’ seed and meadow blossom,_

_The whole wood springin’._

_Proud sing cuckoo._

_Ewe bleats after lamb,_

_Calve lows after cow,_

_Piglet snorts after sow._

_Merry sing cuckoo._

_Bring summer with your song,_

_Loud sing cuckoo._ ”

He finished to a loud round of applause and cries for more. In the end he sang a handful of short, jolly tunes. While the children were distracted, Eowyn returned to her place next to me, looking a great deal paler than she had before. Concerned I leaned over and asked quietly what he had said.

“The wizard rode for Minas Tirith with the other Hobbit. It seems he is in danger.” She whispered, careful not to let anyone else hear her. “More than that, Gondor prepares for imminent battle with Mordor. Lord Aragorn tells me that if my Uncle will not send aid, then we are all doomed.”

My heart clenched painfully at the news.

“Do you think he speaks the truth?” I asked, wondering if he was only using my lady for her honorable nature.

She nodded instantly.

“Aragorn, you must tell them the story of Beren and Tinuviel – you know the one you told at Weathertop?” Merry called.

All eyes turned to the ranger. It seemed that his talk with Eowyn had left him more troubled than he had been anticipating. He sat in awkward silence.

To everyone’s surprise, Legolas called, “I know it well…allow me.”

We all watched in awe as he stood. Tilting his head to look up at the stars, he took a deep breath and began:

“ _Udul he ad ne thriw dregol,_

_Linn din leithiant i ethuil,_

_Sui tuilinn a rhoss dannol,_

_A nen udul o loss glavrol._

_Egenn tuiad niphredil_

_Na dail din, nestas aphadol anirant lilthad na mrennil_

_Linnol am nadhras ubrestol._

_He dregas ad, dan ho nerant,_

_Tinuviel! Tinuviel!_

_Eneg edhellen din estant;_

_Adhor ennas lu hen lastol._

_Ne phost thent Beren, tuliel_

_Na luth ed lam din gen gwedhant_

_Barthannen si Tinuviel_

_Dorthas vi rainc din thiliol._

_Beren tirant na chin iell_

_Vi ‘wath finnil din velui,_

_O elenath aglar menel_

_Egent ennas i miriol._

_Tinuviel elvanui Elleth alfirin edhelhael,_

_O hon ring finnil fuinui_

_A rainc gelebrin thiliol._

_I dhoer manath unodui,_

_Tri annon dur, angren thamas_

_Am ered gondeb, hithui_

_A thaur dhutheb angoeol._

_I aearon min hain dorthas,_

_Govanner hai no vedui,_

_Pelanner io anann ennas_

_Uniniel vi daur linnol._ ”

As he finished, the magic his words held continued to keep me in a sort of trance. I had no idea what he said. But I knew it was beautiful. With no trace of shame or embarrassment I gazed up at him in wonder alongside the others. His eyes found my own eventually.

Aragorn stowed his pipe. He seemed more in control of his emotions as he cleared his throat and explained, “As I told the hobbits when we first ventured out, that is a song Elves sing. It tells of Beren, son of Barahir, a mortal man, and Luthien Tinuviel, the fairest elf maiden that has ever been among all the children of this world.”

“When he died, she chose mortality and followed him,” Legolas continued, still not breaking eye contact with me. “It is sung that they met again beyond the Sundering Seas, and together passed beyond the confines of this world.”

A profound silence followed as the children pondered their words. After a lengthy pause, one of them shifted uncomfortably and cried out, “Master Dwarf, do _you_ know any songs?”

“Plenty,” Gimli replied cheerfully, his loud voice booming across the valley. “We dwarves are well known for our singing voices.”

The children eagerly put the melancholy atmosphere that followed the tragic tale of the lovers behind them, crowding around Gimli and Merry for more charming tales and songs.

The dwarf finished telling a particularly long story about his mother’s, father’s, mother and the quest for a missing silver spoon. It was quite the extensive sordid affair. One that I tuned out part way through, getting lost in my own thoughts that centered around how tragic and beautiful Beren and Tinuviel’s love had been. When the sounds of children asking questions and talking amongst themselves faded, I glanced up and saw most of them either asleep or nearly so. The dwarf noticed too.

Puffing out his chest proudly he patted one of the little girls who had been braiding his beard hair and said, “I have been told I have a motherly way about me.”

Perhaps it was because I was tired, or perhaps I had been emotionally rattled the last few weeks, but I couldn’t help but laugh a little at his absurdity. I tried covering the sound with a cough. Gimli huffed but accepted my sounds as being unusual. I couldn’t help but notice the amusement in Legolas’ eyes.

Eowyn went about waking the children as Viorith and I gathered blankets and other items. Aragorn was kind enough to pour a deer skin of water out on the embers. Those that were awake enough, I sent on their way. Viorith filled his arms and accompanied them along with the hobbit who had one child on each hand. Gimli, Aragorn, and even Eowyn each took up sleeping children. I stooped to grab one of the boys, who was about six years old, but was stopped as Legolas muttered quietly next to my ear, “I will take him.”

His hand on my back was what startled me the most. I looked up into his face as he continued, “Your arm is still injured.”

“Thank you,” I conceded, stepping to the side. My saliva felt as thick as molasses as I struggled to swallow. With little effort, he hefted the child into his arms.

For a moment the boy struggled against him, startled by being moved so quickly through the air, but he stilled as his cheek rested against the soft fabric on Legolas’ shoulder. We walked side by side up to the front entrance of Edoras, taking our time picking our way across the uneven ground. Not that that slowed Legolas. Mostly it was for my benefit. No words passed between us, but it did not feel strained. It was comfortable, like we understood each other.

Just before we got to the orphanage he paused and asked, “Walk with me tomorrow?”

My mouth dried up and I found it hard to swallow again.

“I must tend to Lady Eowyn,” I replied slowly, watching the look in his eyes shift. “But perhaps I can ask to have some time for myself near midday?”

It was subtle, but I could tell he seemed happy; something in the way he held his head and walked felt lighter.

After getting the children in bed and bidding farewell, Eowyn and I were in her room preparing to turn in. As I prepared her bed, she called from across the room, “The elf could not tear his eyes from you.”

So, she had noticed.

Unsure how to respond, I gave her an awkward curtsy and ‘Goodnight my Lady’ and left. Lying in bed, I burrowed deep under the covers and struggled to sleep. Confused thoughts chasing me into my dreams.

The next morning, I casually requested personal time after midday meal. Eowyn gave me permission, along with a curious look. I’d never asked for personal time before.

Squeezing my hand, she said, “Remember to be back in time to visit the blacksmith and his family. He has taken ill.”

“Of course, thank you, my Lady.”

For the remainder of the morning, Eowyn wished to go to the library and spend some time reading in solitude. I went to her room and cleaned until my arm ached. When I visited her later, she was content to continue reading and released me early. Famished, I headed to the golden hall, took out my own small book and nibbled on mutton and fruit while I slowly read. The dull sounds of men and women’s voices filled the air, putting my mind into a state of lulled concentration. I was so engrossed that I did not notice the space next to me become occupied.

“It comes to you swiftly now.” Legolas observed.

Giving him a startled smile, I said, “The larger words still trouble me, but I improve daily.”

He asked what it was about. I told him. We made small talk for a short while before he offered to assist me. This time I didn’t refuse. When I made my first mistake, I bit my lip, half expecting him to say something, but he didn’t. Instead he waited patiently for me to continue, and only helped if I asked. It was kind and gentle, and once again I felt at home being next to him.

Sometime later, after I finished eating, we went out of the city and walked through the valley. We talked. He asked me all sorts of questions about what books I liked, where I grew up, and about my brother. I asked him of Mirkwood and his childhood, and I was surprised to find that it all sounded very normal. So much so that I found myself unable to stop from smiling.

“Why do you laugh?” he asked, brows drawing together in confusion.

Shaking my head, I said, “I apologize. I suppose I had imagined you growing up in a fairy tale, like the ones my mother used to tell me.”

“Do I disappoint you?” he asked with a smirk.

“On the contrary,” I replied. “You are wonderful.”

I paused, facing him tentatively as I realized the gravity of my words.

“Do you mean that?” he asked.

“I do...”

I was nervous to say, but being with him felt comfortable and exciting in a way I couldn’t properly describe.

The smiles on our faces faded as time went on but did not disappear entirely. Before I let myself get too lost in his company, I cleared my throat and told him that I needed to be heading back. He was kind enough to escort me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late for this week's update! I wasn't feeling well yesterday.   
> Hope you all are having a great day!!  
> <3


	9. Closer Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valene and Legolas continue to draw closer, as does the threat to Middle Earth.

Over the next week, I saw quite a bit of Legolas. I learned about his mother and father. I learned about more of what he’d seen during his long life. He even told me about the Hobbit currently carrying the Ring to Mordor. More than feeling frightened over the fact that the fate of the world rested on the small shoulders of a halfling, I felt pity.

I voiced as much to Legolas who surprised me by saying, “At first I was angered that he chose to leave the Fellowship. I did not understand why he would choose something so selfish…”

Drawing my brows together, I waited for him to continue.

“Coming here and fighting seemed pointless,” he said, lowering his gaze. “It was a battle far from the _real_ one – or so I thought. I came to know that being here _was_ important. Thousands of innocents hung in the balance, and all of them fought fiercely despite the absence of hope. It made me realize how wrong I had been about…many things.”

Running his thumb along the hilt of the dagger at his hip he continued, “Frodo taking the ring was not a mistake. I know that now. He is strong despite his size. Just like humans are strong…do not pity him.”

We stood at the edge of the Snowbourn River that flowed east past Edoras. Only the rushing of the water filled the air. I twirled the long blade of grass that I held between my fingers as I thought about what he said. It is a humble and difficult thing, admitting when one is wrong. And he chose to do so willingly.

“At Helm’s Deep, I believed I spoke with your brother,” he admitted quietly.

My face grew hot at the reminder. His tone did not suggest that it was accusatory. It seemed like he needed to say whatever it was that he was trying to, so it would finally be free.

“I gave him my word that I would look out for him,” he continued, turning so he faced the river. “As the call for retreat came, I found myself thinking it would be easy to leave. What was the life of one sickly human compared to all the others that did not wish to die?”

It hurt hearing this. More than anything I’d heard in quite some time. But the shame weighing down his shoulders was visible and enough to keep my biting words sealed behind trembling lips.

He took a deep, steadying breath before looking to me and continuing, “Then I thought of you, down in the caves – how worried you must be for your brother. I remembered what he… _you_ said to me before the battle…and I could not leave him there to die.”

I shook slightly with the force of holding back my tears, struggling with the thought that he had almost left my brother… _me_ , to die. Seeing this, Legolas tentatively reached out and gripped my arms. My body reacted on instinct. I shrank back. A thin stream of tears escaped from the corners of my eyes as I looked up at him.

“It shames me to think of what I almost did,” he continued, voice barely louder than the wind. “If it hadn’t been for – I do not know what I would have done if you – if I had been responsible for your –”

Unable to find any more words to express his sorrow, he fell silent, the muscles in his jaw flexing. I could only stand there with tears streaming down my face.

Eventually, he muttered, “I am sorry…for everything.”

A jolt of pain ran through my core, because in his eyes I could see the ‘everything’ he talked about. It wasn’t just for Aeriador, or me, or my brother, it was for my parents, for Frodo, for all the nameless things from his and mine. As he stood, shoulders hunched and jaw clenched in order to stop the trembling, I saw him, not as an elf, or prince, or hero, but as a person, mourning for all the injustices he had created, or that he thought he did, but the world finished.

Despite still feeling the sting of my own hurt, I reached out and laid my hands against the stiff fabric of his sleeves in a gesture of good faith. The note of surprise on his face was clear as he wrestled with wanting to pull away as I had before. But he didn’t and we stood joined by a soft touch, silently dealing with our own hurts.

The wind shifted, causing stray hairs to fall into my eyes. I blinked them away just as my ears picked up the sound of loud hoof beats drawing closer.

Turning, I caught sight of Eomer riding toward us, his dark brows drawn together accusingly as he took in the pair of us very nearly embracing completely unchaperoned. Self-consciousness made my body act before I could stop it. I pulled away. The absence of warmth was immediately missed.

“Valene.” Eomer pulled sharply on his horse’s reigns as he came alongside us and nodded in greeting, “Lord Greenleaf.”

I offered a curtsy.

“My sister bade me retrieve you,” he continued, his mistrusting eyes fixed on Legolas.

Blinking in surprise, I glanced up at the sun hanging low in the sky. The servants in the keep would be preparing for evening meals by now. How could I have forgotten myself so completely? Hurriedly, I grabbed up my skirts and went to his horse’s side. It still felt like there was more that needed to be said between Legolas and myself, but I had to go. Tilting my chin back over my shoulder so I could take in Legolas’ tall frame, I noted the tension he held in his shoulders. It would have been comically out of place for the usually graceful elf prince if not for the sinking feeling in my gut.

Hauling myself onto the horse, my gut twisted as I wrapped my arms around Eomer’s middle. With the wind behind us, we left Legolas at the riverbank and headed for the keep. We did not speak on the way back. Neither of us seemed to be in the mood for shouting over the wind. When we came to the base of the stairs of the great hall, he hopped off the horse, and gripped me by the waist to help me down. After, we walked in side by side.

“You seem to have become familiar with Lord Greenleaf recently?” he asked, his expression neutral.

I nodded, and muttered, “He protected m-…my brother in the battle at Helm’s Deep. I owe him a great debt.”

I almost said that it had been me in the battle. Eomer was someone I considered a friend – perhaps impudently – but he was not one to understand something like this. He disapproved of his own sister practicing in her spare time with a sword.

Looking me over out of the corner of his eye, he paused on the middle landing. I stopped with him, brows coming together in question. His gloved hand ghosted over my mostly healed arm before asking, “How are you?”

“Fine, my Lord. There is little pain now.”

His deep brown eyes searched my face, silently saying that my answer wasn’t enough. As the sound of the towns people milling about filled my ears, his hand came up and cupped my cheek. A strange feeling crept into the pit of my stomach as his thumb gently rubbed my skin. I froze. Our bodies were close enough that I could feel his cloak brushing against my skirts.

“Should you ever want for anything, you need only ask.”

“My Lord Eomer, I don’t-”

Without warning, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and tugged me into his chest. I made a small noise of surprise as he pressed me flush against his body. Speaking into my hair he muttered, “Shadow draws near and I would not lose you to it. Please…take care of yourself and my sister. Will you promise me this?”

As I looked up, I caught sight of his deep brown eyes shimmering in the dying light of the sun. Under the hardened surface that had developed over years of warring against the evils of the world, I saw something I didn’t expect. Fear. It caused my breath to catch in my throat. His hand ran down my back between my shoulder blades; unconsciously. His focus was so intense as he silently urged me to answer, that it robbed me of my voice.

All I could do was nod my head.

A soft sigh escaped his lips.

“Go,” he said, suddenly releasing me. “Eowyn waits for you.”

Taking a deep breath, I gave him a short curtsy. Something about his shoulders seemed like there was a weight he was carrying and I told myself that I should ask if he was alright.

“Go,” he repeated.

I hurried off as the sky filled with the vibrant hues of sunset.

Eowyn sat in the library, curled into a corner with a book tucked close to her chest. I stood in the doorway a moment, unwilling to disturb the quiet she was so enveloped in. She looked so serene, like the princess she was. Times like this I was reminded how different we were. She was gracious and kind to treat me as an equal, but I could not forget that she was important. Far more important to the people of Rohan as a whole.

I would keep her safe.

“Valene?” Eowyn called, startling me from my thoughts.

Clearing my throat, I came out from behind the doorframe and gave her a deep curtsy. Her brows drew together in question at the gesture but I did not wish to burden her with my worries. Instead, I strode to her side, put on my best smile and asked, “Shall we go for supper, my Lady?”

Choosing to disregard whatever she’d been thinking about my strangeness, she nodded and allowed me to help her to her feet. I strode after her, my eyes watching the hem of her skirt as it brushed back and forth along the ground behind her.

That night I could not sleep. Throughout the last of the evening I was able to keep myself focused on various tasks, but as I settled under my covers, my body became restless. The conversations with Legolas and Eomer repeated over and over in my mind. Feelings of joy and shame concerning the elf prince kept churning in my stomach while Eomer conjured confusion and anxiety keeping my legs tangled in my blankets. Sometime before dawn I dressed and headed to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

It was quiet in the great hall. No torches were lit, leaving the space feeling cold. I was completely alone. I’d half expected to run into Legolas or Eomer or someone, but I was relieved that I had some quiet to myself. I slipped through, the sole of my shoes tapping lightly on the stone floor.

The kitchen fire was glowing embers. I laid some logs down and coaxed the flames back. I stared into them as the water boiled, and continued staring as the tea leaves steeped. The herbal mixture of mint and chamomile was enough to calm my body. Just in time for a new day to begin. The cook and other servants started trickling in looking surprised to see me up already. I merely smiled and kept out of the way. Eventually I left with a fresh cup of tea for Eowyn.

To say it was a slow morning was putting it mildly. It seemed that all the preparations for the coming harvest season were well in hand, and training of the soldiers was already underway in the fields outside the city walls. As the sun climbed higher it called the people of the city to emerge, beckoning with warmth and light for the first time in what felt like ages. It would be a wonderful day to go on a walk.

After yesterday though, I chose to ignore the desire to seek out Legolas’ company. Instead I took up the task of taking out the rugs, tapestries and bed hangings from Lady Eowyn’s room to the clothes lines down by the stables. Eowyn herself was going to sit in the small courtyard behind the great hall and take in the sun. I promised to be back in time to prepare her midday meal.

Beating the dust and cobwebs from the rugs was very therapeutic. Both for my mind and my body. Even though my arm ached from where it had been injured at Helm’s Deep, I stood rejuvenated. I left the remaining items airing while I made my way back to the great hall.

Eowyn had taken to directing the servants with further cleaning. The braid that I’d set in her hair earlier had started coming undone with how full of energy she seemed. It was good to see a glow in her cheeks. I was just about to go over to see if I could help when I heard the sound of rapid footsteps. I turned in time to catch sight of Aragorn tearing up the steps.

He rushed by and through the main doors calling out breathlessly, “The Beacons of Minas Tirith…the Beacons are lit!”

Everyone in the hall fell silent and still as the ranger came to an abrupt halt. All eyes turned to look at King Theoden who stood frozen with a look of surprise on his face. Voice cracking slightly Aragorn finished, “Gondor calls for aid!”

By now our chores lay forgotten. I held my breath, struggling against the urge to vomit. Did this mean war? Or would we retreat into the mountains and hope that the shadow would not claim us there?

Theoden took a deep breath to steady himself as he stood tall and answered, “And Rohan will answer. Muster the Rohirram!”

~O~

Our day which had started off beautiful, peaceful and productive quickly turned to controlled chaos. The bell for war rang continuously as horses, food, equipment, and other supplies were made ready for the journey the warriors would be taking to meet with the others from around Rohan. I myself was kept constantly on the move packing a trunk of things for Eowyn since she would ride out to bid them a traditional farewell.

As I headed back into Eowyn’s room to grab some last-minute items for her, she intercepted me, gripped my arm, and whispered urgently, “Come, we must speak.”

Her steel grey eyes appeared as though a fire of determination blazed behind them. I had not seen them like that in some time. Without waiting for an answer, she dragged me into the west hall toward a small sitting room that was usually reserved for more intimate meetings. Whirling around in front of the fireplace so her flaxen braid caught the warm glow and glittered like gold, she stood breathing heavily, staring me down like she was preparing to strike me.

“My Lady, what is it that upsets you?”

Flexing her hands like she wished there was something in them to fiddle with, she muttered, “The men of Rohan go to war against a great evil.”

I nodded, the now familiar twist in my gut tugging once more.

“You know better than most my desire to be free to serve my people.” she said as she began to pace. “With this threat especially, I feel the call to action, like a bell tolling within me. I wish to go into battle with the other men, but I cannot unless you keep this secret safe.”

My jaw dropped open in shock. She could not seriously want this. Flashes of the battle at Helm’s Deep came to mind; all the screaming, blood and death. And then there was Eomer’s deep brown eyes pleading with me silently to keep his sister safe.

Eowyn must have seen the panic on my face for she rushed to my side and gripped my arms tightly, “Please, my sister, you must understand that I have to do this. All my life I could feel the sword calling to me. I will not let my men go to their deaths while I sit idly by. It nearly killed me at Helm’s Deep. I will not do so again.”

My breath was stolen away, all the color drained from my face. What I struggled with was hearing the King and Eomer in my head constantly reminding her and myself that we had our uses that were better served elsewhere. I looked into her eyes and saw the tears of frustration beginning to form. Of course, I knew of her desires. She had shared them with me time and time again, and I had started believing in them too. Ever since she’d taken me in, an inner strength had grown. A confidence of the self that I had never known before. She taught me how to read and fight. My brother or myself would be dead if not for her. So, who was I to tell this beautiful, capable woman that she was nothing more than what her station and gender allowed?

Swallowing past the lump that had grown in my throat, I said thickly, “I will not stop you, my Lady…”

Relief flooded her features at my words.

“But I cannot let you go alone,” I continued, my bottom lip trembling slightly as traumatic memories began assaulting my senses. “I go at your side.”

Her face fell. Shaking her head, she started, “Valene, no, you cannot –”

“I made a promise to keep you safe. I will not leave you to face evil alone.”

I could see the guilt in her eyes. She did not want to cause me any more pain, but at the same time this was not something she could change her mind about. With some regret, she nodded and then pulled me into her arms. Burrowing her face in the crook of my neck we held each other for some time.

“There is not much time,” she mumbled, pulling away. “You must get our swords and hide them amongst my things. Then you must find armor and helmets to complete our disguise. I fear that I would be noticed doing so. After that, go to your brother and say your goodbyes.”

“Yes, my lady,” I whispered, my stomach flipping.

I did as she asked, secreting away the items. All the while my thoughts were filled with how I was going to tell my brother farewell. I couldn’t tell him what I was doing. Not only would Viorith never let me go, but he also had the uncanny knack of knowing when I was lying. I ran through what I was going to say to him over and over again in my head, telling myself to act natural.

I went to the orphanage first. Marthay was outside with the children as they played in the garden. She beamed brightly when she caught sight of me, making my heart clench with guilt. Waving me over she asked, “Here to say goodbye, are you? I expect you’ve been busy packing for Lady Eowyn?”

“Yes,” I laughed distractedly, glancing around for Viorith’s familiar head of reddish hair. “Where is my brother?”

“Oh, sweet lad went out to help the soldiers with their horses.”

It was good to hear that he was doing so well and that he was keeping himself busy. I know that idle hands were worse than any torture for him. I gave everyone a quick goodbye, telling all the children that I would be back after wishing the men well on their way to battle. I found my eyes starting to burn with tears as I once again reminded myself of what waited for me in Gondor. Luckily, they were so occupied with chasing each other that my look of sorrow went unnoticed.

I made my way outside the walls of the keep. Hundreds of horses were being saddled and loaded with supplies. It was difficult to even see anything through the dust that was getting kicked into the air by the hooves and boots. Some time passed before I was able to locate my brother. He looked well. Strong even as he slung saddle bags onto horses.

“Valene!” He called happily, wiping at the sweat on his brow. “I hoped you would have time to wish me farewell.”

I smiled, unable to meet his gaze. Immediately I knew that he would think something was wrong. Cursing myself quietly, I forced myself to look up and smile at him. The look of concern on his face faltered slightly. I gave him a quick hug and said, “Lady Eowyn and I will be back soon. I will…I will miss you though.”

“I will miss you too, sister.” He replied with a question in his smile.

Feeling my bottom lip beginning to tremble, I threw my arms over his shoulders and muttered, “I love you. Be good.”

For a moment I feared that he had figured me out. His body grew stiff and he fell quiet. But then his hands rubbed against my back comfortingly and he said, “I love you too…be safe on your journey.”

Giving him a small squeeze, I pulled back and smiled before turning on my heel and heading back up to the keep. When I was far enough away, I rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my palm to clear them of the tears that had gathered in my eyelashes. I truly wished I could have said more. I was terrified. I was going into battle once more. My arm ached at the idea. More than anything, I wanted to turn around, curl up into my brother’s arms, and wish away all the evils that waited on the horizon.

But it could not be. 

Preparations were completed in the late afternoon. Those who were leaving and those who would remain all gathered outside the walls to say brief goodbyes. I could see my brother standing alongside Calil near the main gate. I didn’t dare go over.

“Now is the hour, Riders of Rohan! Oaths you have taken…fulfill them all to Lord and Land!” Eomer bellowed, his tenor carrying out over the valley.

A deafening call answered him as he and the King led the procession. Since there were less men and women than when going to Helm’s Deep the pace was quick. Surprisingly so. My heart beat wildly inside my chest, nearly in time to my horse’s hooves pounding into the grassland beneath it. As we reached the edge of the valley, I turned back to look at Edoras and couldn’t help but wonder if it would be the last time I ever saw it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! Are you worried about our fresh lovers now that the Battle of the Pelenor Fields looms?! I'll see you next week~! <3


	10. Ride, For Rohan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The forces of men gather to fight for Middle Earth. Valene, with fear in her heart and loved ones at her side, readies to fight in another bloody battle.

We reached Dunharrow – the place where all the forces of Rohan would congregate in times of war – near nightfall the next day. Already what must have been around a thousand men had gathered. Those we rode past stood and gazed after their King with awe and respect. Some looked just as scared as I felt as they hunched over tankards and muttered quietly.

Eowyn’s reaction to everything was the one I was most tuned into however. I watched as she shifted her weight in her saddle as we rode up to the base of the mountain that overlooked the encampment where the royal family and those of military importance would be staying. Her silver eyes traced the narrow switchback road going up its face to the plateau that housed the quarters. She was nervous. More than that though, she was determined. Her eyes remained clear and bright despite the shadow of fear lingering in them. It gave me the strength to ignore my own dread lingering just below the surface of my skin, bubbling and roiling like tar.

I shuttled our secret goods as swiftly as possible once we reached our tent, careful not to alert anyone to the noise that was made when they were jostled. Eowyn disappeared to make the rounds with her father. The rest of my evening was spent nervously running about from one task to the next. Not only were there my original duties to perform such as the ones back at Edoras, but in addition I had to assemble packs filled with enough supplies that would get us to Gondor by secreting away bits and pieces when I saw the opportunity. Each time I was terrified I would be found out. As my fingers curled around a loaf of bread, I imagined the guard a few feet away turning and demanding to know what it was I was doing. But amazingly, I kept hidden.

When the temperature dropped and I began shivering, I hurried back to Eowyn.

Outside the entrance to our tent, Eomer and Gamli sat warming themselves by the fire that I had gotten started earlier. Noticing that their eyes trained on the over-large wrapped parcel of dried meat in my hands, my mind went blank with panic.

Running on muscle memory, I curtsied and asked, “Are my Lords in need of anything?”

“Bring some of that over, girl.” Gamli called, motioning to the parcel clutched tightly in my hands.

With a stiff smile, I obliged. Eomer took a piece as well, his gaze lingering on my steadily reddening face. I looked away.

“You look unwell, Valene,” Eomer commented, his hand suddenly reaching out and clasping around my own. “Come, rest a while and have a drink with us.”

“We won’t get another chance to relax after this night.” Gamli added darkly, taking a long drag out of his tankard as he was lost to his thoughts.

Eomer, still holding onto my cold fingers, shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. After a moment he muttered, “It would be good to spend time in your company. Please…?”

Before he could say anything further, one of the Hobbits that I had met the other day and Eowyn both emerged from the tent. I jumped aside dropping Eomer’s hand as Merry, who looked pink in the cheek with happiness and drink, brandished his blade in the air like a child would with a new toy. It felt like ever since arriving here, all I’d done was worry, so it was relieving to see someone enjoying themselves. But Eomer and Gamli did not think as I did.

Eowyn ushered the hobbit along, urging him to go to the smith to sharpen the blunted blade in his hand. As his head of wild curls disappeared around the corner, Eomer chided through a mouthful of dried meat, “You should not encourage him.”

“You should not doubt him.”

Eowyn replied with such fire, that I wondered if something had happened while down visiting the men with her brother and the king.

Eomer’s own eyes darkened as he replied, “I do not doubt his heart. Only the reach of his arm…”

An amused chuckle from Gamli set both the men back as they laughed. Eowyn’s cheeks flushed a spotty pink in anger as she asked hotly, “Why should Merry be left behind? He has as much cause to go to war as you. Why can he not fight for those he loves?”

Neither of the men knew how to answer her. They seemed taken aback by her passion. Gamli leant away. She stared them down in the silence before saying sharply, “Come Valene, there is much to do…”

I could feel Eomer’s eyes on me as I hurried after her.

That night I slept fitfully. Eowyn would not speak to me about what had happened that day, leaving me feeling uneasy. As I slept, dark remembrances of Helm’s Deep and the battle I’d barely lived through came screaming up from the depths. I thought of Aeriador, his body crumbling away in the mass grave next to others that had lost their lives that day. His face became Eowyn’s face. Her glassy dead eyes looked at me with blame and hatred. That was what I was helping her toward. If I did not protect her…I would not be able to live with myself.

For what felt like the hundredth time that night, I came awake with a start. Breathing heavily, I turned over to my other side and gazed at the dark canvas of the tent. All the sounds of the encampment came to me clearly. I could hear the crickets whirring away, men snoring, fires crackling. And then I heard Eowyn’s voice rise up and ask, “Why are you doing this?”

I sat up, looking around to her bed which she was not in. Moving as quickly as I could while still remaining quiet, I sprang up and headed out toward her voice.

“The war lies to the east, you cannot leave on the eve of battle,” she continued, a note of desperation in her voice.

My bare feet ghosted along the ground, sending shivers up my spine as the chilled damp of the earth settled into my skin. I slipped close to the tent and peered around the corner. Eowyn and Aragorn stood close together speaking in hushed tones. The pain of betrayal was fresh on her face which glowed in the night like the moon high above. Even Aragorn seemed tormented as the knuckles of his hands went white around the reigns he gripped.

“Why have you come?”

Eowyn stepped even closer at his words, took one of his hands, encircled it with her own and asked forlornly, “Do you not know?”

Aragorn’s eyes struggled to meet hers, but finally they did and he whispered, “It is but a shadow and a thought that you love…I cannot give you what you seek.”

That was not true. I had seen the way he looked at her, the way he touched her. His words had always been so kind and respectful. There was no way he did not care for her. What was happening?

Tears left silver lines down Eowyn’s cheeks as she gazed up at him in disbelief. He did not say another word, merely turned and slowly led his horse away. Once the sound of his footsteps faded, she remained; still as a statue. I longed to go to her. But it was not what would help her in this moment. Instead, I stood behind the tent watching over her quietly.

Dawn broke over the mountain peaks slowly, casting warm, rich colors across the cloudy skies. I stood next to Eowyn, looking out across the valley below as the wind brushed by. Eventually I had gone to her, placing a blanket around her shoulders. Expressionless, she allowed me to lead her to where we stood now. I could not tell her anything that would comfort her. I did not even wish to try. For fear of my own panic coming out to rear its ugly head. We both stood on the edge of the cliff thinking of our ride into the waiting maw of Mordor’s army, silently bolstering the inner strength that had been shattered so decisively in such a short amount of time.

“Do you believe we go to our deaths?” Eowyn asked suddenly, her voice a thin wisp.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye briefly. She stood tall; her shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders as she regarded the men sleeping soundly below. This question wasn’t just about her or I. This was about the whole of Rohan riding off to meet the doom that waited for them outside Minas Tirith. A question that weighed heavily enough to cause even her to stagger under its weight. So vulnerable. What could I say to bring back hope?

I cleared my throat and said carefully, “When I first promised to join you, I did so believing you needed looking after. I did not think of your motivations, I thought of my own fears. You were more important to keep alive than the reason you were willing to put yourself in danger.

“My Lady, I am sorry…I placed you in the very cage you have spoken for years about being afraid of. For that uncertainty, I am ashamed. I left you to the despair that you never stopped fighting against.”

As I spoke, the sky continued to lighten and Eowyn turned to watch me.

My own gaze went to the valley where the faintest movement was stirring in the camp. Brushing the tips of my fingers along the chilled skin of my exposed arms I continued, “I do not doubt that we ride into great peril…but we still have the power to construct our destinies.”

“I would not blame you for staying behind. I do not hold you to me.”

“I stay by my word, my Lady. Even more so now.”

Seeing a small bit of light return to her eyes was like seeing the sun after a long, hard winter.

Eowyn said she wanted some time to herself after that. For a moment I thought that I may have said something wrong, but she reached out and took up my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She then asked me to go and ready our armor for later. Once we performed our ceremonial farewell to the king and the army we would rush back to our tent, change, and join.

As the men emerged from their tents and gathered around the fires eating breakfast, I heard them whispering about Aragorn. That was when I found out that Gimli and Legolas had left that morning with him; something about heading for the ‘Path of the Dead’. My hands froze clutching a chain shirt. Legolas had gone? His intense eyes came to mind as I stood there thinking of the three of them willingly abandoning all of us. After all that time Legolas and I spent together – after everything he confessed to me – my heart dropped.

Standing off to the side while Eowyn presented the king and her brother with small favors – a beautifully embroidered handkerchief and a long-stemmed rose respectively – I looked around at the soldiers watching the exchange. I could see them committing her beauty and their ruler’s strength in the face of danger to memory. When they recalled this moment on the field of battle later, it would undoubtedly bolster their courage.

The war horn sounding loudly from close by made me jump. Men turned almost as one and started quickly breaking down camp and readying their horses. Eowyn went to the king again and gave him another sincere kiss on his gloved fingers before he mounted his beautiful steed and motioned for the others around him to do the same. I waited nervously behind Eowyn. When they were out of sight, she turned on her heel, gripped me under the elbow and hurriedly led me toward the base of the mountain.

Careful not to let any around us hear she asked out of the corner of her mouth, “Did you hide our packs where I told you to?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“And did you set aside the new horses?”

I nodded.

Walking as quickly as we could without drawing attention, we made our way through the sea of soldiers to where I’d hidden our supplies and armor. We then slipped into a tent that was abandoned. It smelled strongly of perfumed water. This must have been a wash tent. The king must have made sure the men he called to battle would be lulled with luxuries on their arrival to the camp. An interesting strategy to keep them loyal and complacent. I kept close to the flap at the entrance, one eye on the movement outside, the other on Eowyn as she struggled with the chainmail and leathers. She was not used to the buckles or the restriction in movement. When I thought it safe, I pulled away from guarding to hurriedly fit the last of the straps.

“Now you.” She rushed to the entrance and took a glance as I stripped down to my small clothes.

I also needed assistance with some of the buckles. And when we stood facing each other in the low light of the tent – the sound of boots and hooves thundering outside – it hit me again that we were about to do something very real and very dangerous. Eowyn took up the helmets from the ground and passed one to me. Both of our hands shook as we held them before us.

“For Rohan.” Her voice was soft but strong. In the morning light that fell through the gap in the tent flap, her eyes glowed a brilliant, steely blue. My breath caught in my throat at the sight.

“For Rohan,” I repeated.

Placing the helmet over her head, she adjusted it slightly, gave me one last look and then stepped out of the tent. Taking a deep breath, I followed suit.

Together we headed across the camp toward the man that held our new horses. He was there, grizzled and shouting orders to helpers that busily rushed around like worker bees. I deepened my voice and mumbled something about Lady Eowyn preparing two horses for me. The man gave me a long look up and down as if he was asking ‘what’s so special about you that the lady would care?’. Eventually he shrugged and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. I nodded in thanks.

We went down the line of horses to the two without riders. I slipped my saddle bag over its back and hoisted myself up with a grunt. It was a war horse which was bigger than I was used to. Glancing nervously at Eowyn, I saw that her attention was focused on someone a little way down from us. It was the Hobbit Merry. It seemed that no one was willing to have him ride with them.

There was no need for Eowyn to tell me what she planned. I could see it before she had even acted on it. She spurred her horse expertly, undaunted by its size, toward the small man. As she rode next to him, she reached down and grabbed him by the scruff. With an impressive amount of strength, she hoisted him into the saddle in front of her. I rode close behind, and soon we joined in the great throng that headed for the mouth of the pass that lead out to the open plains and eventually Minas Tirith.

Sliding down from the saddle was agony. After a full day of riding, the muscles in my legs, buttock, and lower back were cramping like someone was taking a hot poker to them. Bow-legged, I staggered over to Eowyn already splayed on the dry grass.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked, careful to keep out ‘my lady’.

Cracking open her eyes, she shook her head. I said something about stretching my legs and wandered off. The men I passed all seemed equally as glad to be resting. Being from Rohan they were used to long rides, but not usually ones that went from just after sun up to shortly before sun down.

“Pass the wine!”

“Need more firewood, where did –”

“Blast this mail.”

Separate conversations intermixed, creating a comfortable hum. It felt like sitting back in the kitchens at Edoras listening to the servant girls gossip and go about their business. Blissful normalcy. I stopped to rub at my aching legs as I overheard two men arguing over the lyrics of an old field song. It was a good distraction from the darker thoughts of what waited.

“Drink,” A kind voice called, muffled behind bandages that covered half its owners face. “It will help with the pain.”

I laughed weakly and took the wineskin from his outstretched hand. Nodding, I muttered a quick thanks, and took a swig. Wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand I passed it back. Wrapping the leather tie around his belt he said, “I am Vinithar, son of Gorthilot.”

I smiled, unconcerned that he may recognize me. If he had he would have raised alarm already. Something in the way _he_ moved was familiar though, like he reminded me of someone from Edoras. Perhaps one of the guards?

“Where do you hail from?” I asked curiously.

“A small village…named Brearnfon to the north of Rohan.”

“I have heard of it.” I nodded. It had been the closest village to my own when I was a child. Before my parents died, father would often go there for supplies that our village could not grow or make for themselves.

“Good to know another that comes from small beginnings.”

I smiled. One did not know the small villages without having come from one yourself.

“Most of the men I have met have little time for new blood from the border villages.” He muttered, glancing at the men around us. “Is this your first time to war as well?”

A flash of terror rushed through my core as faint echoes of screams rose up. I breathed deep for a moment, aware that the man was looking at me expectantly. Finally, I gave him a sad smile and shook my head.

“I fought at Helm’s Deep,” I mumbled.

“Would you…could I ask you about it?”

His eyes, despite being shrouded heavily in bandages, still looked to me full of apprehension of the unknown. That fear quelled my own just a small bit and I agreed. I spent time with the young man, even relaxing to the point where I wasn’t using a gruff voice to disguise my gender. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice. And perhaps it was because he came from a small town too, but the way he spoke and acted was familiar and comfortable. Like being with my brother by the river bank searching for the most beautiful pebble as a child, or learning how to chop wood with my father.

“Let us speak over bread,” I motioned back toward the fire that I had started before. “You must be as famished as I after such a grueling ride.”

“Thank you,” he replied. The bandages around his eyes and mouth crinkling, and I could tell that he was smiling despite not being able to see it. “And to whom do I owe my gratitude?”

I looked away, searching the air desperately for any inspiration to a question I had not thought of an answer to.

“Tellom son of…of Eldarom.”

The man bowed his head in greeting.

A crack of thunder in the distance drew our attentions to the darkening skies in the east. Far over the horizon I could just make out the billowing clouds, black and looming. That was where we were headed. I did not wish to think about that now though. I focused on imparting my first-hand wisdom to my new companion, and in so doing, reminding myself what to remember and what to forget; how to survive.

Eowyn and Merry were glad for our new friend when night quickly fell. All the men, the thousands that there were on the plain, were silent. Thinking about what was to come but not speaking of it aloud. We enjoyed a hushed conversation, trading happy stories and tips on how to properly wield our swords.

In time, color returned to the pale faces around me. The golden light of the sun, our beacon of hope, washed over the men and horses like a warm spring rain. New fervor bloomed in our chests. One of those around us started going to any and all man that he could see, patting them on the back and shoulder with gusto. Soon, others joined in, lending their voices out to those who could not initially find their motivation within. After some food had been eaten and time had been spent making peace with all that could be left behind in the event of death, came the order to ride once more.

“Did you leave a girl behind?” Merry asked Vinithar conversationally, tugging on a strap to adjust his armor.

His chin dipped down so as to avoid the Hobbit’s eyes and did not reply. Merry let out a knowing laugh, but did not press any further.

Our order was to take this leg of the journey slow. The horses would need energy if we were to go right into battle as soon as we reached Minas Tirith. It was awful moving at such a pace. My hands slipped and struggled to keep hold of the reigns as my palms began to sweat. The foreboding dark clouds that had seemed so far yesterday, were all but upon us now. Too soon, we reached the edge of the Pelennor Fields. On the faint breeze that came from the south, the acrid smell of smoke was carried. My eyes darted about, taking in the full view of the thousands of orcs that filled the valley in front of the smoldering white city. It appeared that they had already lost two of the lower levels. Were we too late?

“There are so many,” Vinithar whispered, unable to look away. The entire field between Osgiliath and the White City was an ocean of stinking orcs, trolls, wargs, and other unspeakable things from Mordor. Even high above the bleak fields there were winged beasts.

I glanced to Eowyn on my other side and saw her eyes fixed on the king who sat slightly ahead of everyone on his horse, taking in so frightening a sight.

“We may be too late and too few, but it is better than nothing at all.” The Hobbit said suddenly, surprising the three of us listening to him.

“You are right Merry,” Eowyn smiled, her face struggling to match the strength in her voice.

Above us, the clouds were beginning to disperse. As if our very arrival had changed the dark powers that threatened Minas Tirith. As they drifted further and further apart, the same comforting feeling from earlier washed over us all. None more so than the king himself. Tall and proud he seemed again and, rising in his stirrups he cried in a loud, clear voice:

“Arise, arise, Riders of Theoden! Spear shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered, a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!”

The four of us glanced at each other, the intense feeling hundreds of men around us believing in one noble cause, swelled. It drew me up, filling me with a courage that I thought had been left back at Dunharrow. Spears were readied in anticipation of the charge. Theoden went along the front line, striking his sword against the shafts of the spears as he continued impassioned:

“Ride now, ride! Ride for ruin and the world’s ending!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting even closer to the end!! How do you think the battle on the Pelennor Fields will go for our heroine?! See you next week!! <3


	11. You Promised

The king let out a cry, thrusting his sword up so the sun’s rays caught the edge of the blade. All around me answered back with their own bellows. The sound thundered in my chest making each breath of my own feel as though anxious birds hammered against my ribs. Vinithar beside me joined in, the spark of determination in his eye that I could see from under his bandages. Eowyn brandished her own sword as Merry hollered. Taking my reigns up in a vice like grip, I pushed through my fear and let out my voice. My cry was instantly lost in the cacophony around me, but I could feel it. It resonated intensely, gaining strength the longer I let it free. Lastly, the horns were raised, trumpeting our courage across the plain. We were a wave upon the rocks, the thunder in the mountains. We were the Riders of Rohan.

By now the orcs had noticed our army and had begun forming ranks to meet us. The king sprang away, leading the charge. The hooves upon the ground only added to our cry for battle. Morning at our backs, we raced into the darkness, chasing it in as far as we could, and then going further. The orcs wailed in terror, some turning to flee, and still more falling under our hooves and blades.

At the first sight of an orc that was not overtaken by my horse, I thrust my sword down, catching it by the chin and slicing up along its face. In a second the body was gone, crumpled and folded under the wrathful stampede of horses behind my own. It felt like we parted the army like the slice of a hot dagger.

“Ride them to the river!” someone called over my shoulder, others of higher rank echoing the cry to those down the line.

I did as I was ordered, and turned my horse about. It was here that I realized I’d lost sight of Eowyn and Merry. Vinithar was still behind, black blood coating his hands and arms up to the elbow. He caught my eye and smiled triumphantly. A smile which had been hidden behind bandages previously. They must have come loose in the charge. My own face fell in thought. Why did he need bandages? There were no scars or wounds to speak of. Before I could process, he spurred his horse, giving chase after the others already on the heels of the retreating orcs. I went after him.

The closer we got to the river, the more the light faded. An uneasy feeling settled in my gut. I struggled to keep up with Vinithar through the throng of riders. I worried for Eowyn. A new quiet fell over the men around me, alerting me to a rhythmic rumble. Huge beasts, larger than anything I had ever seen, emerged from the plumes of smoke.

My breath caught in my throat as I whispered in disbelief, “Oliphaunts.”

They featured in many a story from my childhood. I would often request one centered around an Oliphaunt at bedtime. And the boys would always wish to play as warriors from the Far Harad and wage war unsuccessfully against other boys pretending to be warriors of Rohan. Aeriador had always enjoyed that game.

Looking now at their sheer size, I could not imagine how we could win. My grip on the reigns grew slack and my horse slowed to a hesitant stop. The flame of courage that had burst from us earlier wavered. I gripped my sword in my numb hand and looked around for orders.

From the right I heard the king holler, “Reform the line!”

I obeyed. Focusing on the task to keep my nerves together.

Again, we charged. All I could hear was the beating of my heart as we rode toward the enormous beasts. Three of them loomed ahead, the closer I got the more I felt like a mouse facing down a cat. My breaths came out fast and quick in anticipation.

I was among the first to reach them. The exotic creatures were covered in spikes, war paint, and on top of their backs a sort of mobile house filled with jeering men. My jaw fell open as I watched the oliphaunt turn its great head, raising the armored tusks protruding from its mouth as it did.

Then, all at once, pandemonium struck. The tusks came down, slamming into the side of a dozen or more riders. One man who had been impaled under his ribs very nearly kicked me as he was wrenched off his horse and over my head screaming. Blood came down like a soft rain. I was not quick enough to close my mouth and avoid the coppery taste that suddenly assaulted me. My horse bucked and screamed.

Panic clenched my gut as dead bodies of men and horse alike slammed into the ground in front of me. I tugged on the reigns, pulling my horse’s muzzle sharply. But I overcompensated. Now I faced the oliphaunt’s tree trunk like hind legs. I screamed, yanking on the reigns again. A rush of stinking wind went by as I narrowly avoided colliding with it. Someone else behind me was not as lucky. They made a squelching crunch as their body was crushed.

The previous feelings of hope and courage silently slid away as the sounds of men’s dying screams filled the air. It was as though I was back there, standing on the walls of Helm’s Deep, with rain pelting my face. In reality the wetness on my face was fresh tears and blood.

Others around me that had made it through the charge turned to face the enemy again. I struggled to do the same. Partly because I could barely function through my terror, but also because my horse would not stop bucking and pulling against me.

“Damn you,” I cried at the horse, tugging on the reigns pitifully.

In what seemed like no time at all, nearly a quarter of our numbers had been wiped away. Some of the orcs that had retreated were now coming back.

“Look out!” a voice cried.

My eyes went wide as I turned to see Vinithar. He was shouting at me, the bandages that had been around his face and head nearly all gone. And even across the distance between us, his features were familiar. Following his pointing hand, I caught sight of an orc astride a warg barreling straight at me. I rotated my body just enough to wrench my neck out of the way of snapping jaws. The air was crushed from my body however as it slammed into me clamping down on my torso. I could not even scream for there was no air to fuel my cry.

We went down hard. Multiple bones cracked as I crumpled under the weight of the impact. I struggled to suck in a breath of air. It felt like I was breathing through a thick pillow. The fangs digging into my chest and arm clamped down even tighter as the warg began crushing me and thrashing its head about.

My vision was just blacking out when I suddenly slid free from its jaws. I tumbled to the ground. The piece in the center of my helmet digging into the bridge of my nose as I lay face down in the dirt, gasping and coughing. My whole left side had no feeling. My arm would not move. Wheezing, I clawed the fingers of my working hand into the ground and dragged myself away before looking over my shoulder.

Other men that had lost their horses had taken up their blades to fight on the ground with the orcs that returned. The warg that had attacked me lay dead, blood still gushing from a stab wound to its neck. And my savior stood over my prone form, facing off against the orc rider.

“Die, filth!” the orc spat, lunging with his dagger.

Vinithar sidestepped, avoiding the blow. It was here that I could see his novice sword skill. If he had been quicker on his feet, he could have stabbed up into the orc’s exposed belly. Eowyn had shown me a few moves for just such occasions. But I was helpless and bleeding on the ground, unable to aid him.

With adrenaline pumping through his veins though, he was able to harness a sort of reckless fury that overpowered the lone orc. While I lay there helpless, I focused on trying to get my body up and moving. First my legs, kicking and scraping along the dried grass. Next my arm, despite the burning sensation that occurred as I flexed my fingers. As I stood, using my sword to help prop myself up, I found that I could not fully straighten. The pain in my ribs was too great. Clutching my side, I looked to the east. More orcs were coming.

Vinithar let out a grunt of pain as the orc he continued to battle slammed the fist that held the long dagger into the side of his head. The helmet, as well as the last of the bandages, were ripped off. But Vinithar took the blow in stride and saw his opening. He stabbed up sharply. After a moment, he kicked the now still orc off his blade and stood breathing heavily.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “You saved my–”

When he turned and I gazed upon his bare, unmarred face, all the blood drained from my face. It was not just some random young man from the border villages. It was my brother. His face shone with sweat, and his cheeks glowed pink from exertion. The grin on his lips was the most telling of all. He felt alive. Probably for the first time in his entire life. When he caught sight of my face though, his smile faltered. The corners of my vision darkened and a weak trembling began in my legs. I collapsed to my knees.

“Valene!”

Viorith rushed to my side quickly.

“How… _wheeze_ …why are you here?”

He was too busy trying to assess my injuries to answer me. My whole body was trembling now. I clutched the front of his leather armor and tugged his face close to my own. Coughing I demanded, “Tell me!”

His gloved hand cupped the side of my face, the smell of hot leather quickly filling my nose. Turning my head so I could do nothing but look directly into his eyes. Supporting most of my weight he said, “I knew you planned to join the battle once more. I could see the lie in your eyes when you came to say goodbye.”

“So, you… _wheeze_ …cho-chose to follow me?”

“I chose to follow my own heart,” he said loudly, his face becoming serious. “For our people. For Middle Earth.”

“Damn you,” I sobbed, shaking my head. “You promised me you would not try to be brave.”

After watching me sob for a moment, his lips twisted together like he was trying to hold back his own tears. He pulled me close, careful not to hurt me and muttered, “I know, but I am not sorry. Not for this.”

Yes, he held no guilt in his decision to come here. Looking at his face as he glanced at the pandemonium around us, I saw how clear and alert his eyes were. If his childhood hadn’t been filled with illness…perhaps he could have thrived being out on the field of battle, brave like he is now. It was then that I realized: he was the one holding me up right now. How many times during my childhood had I wished to be the one that my mother doted on? The one that was held? Now that I was helpless in the middle of a battlefield, I realized that I had been wrong to be so jealous. I had had the choice to fight. My brother did not. Until now.

Furrowing my brow in concentration, I gently pushed him away and rose to stand on my own two feet. He followed. And as we stood on equal footing for the first time in our lives, I held out my hand. His mouth fell open slightly as his eyes widened, as if he was asking if I was being serious. I nodded and whispered, “I will…follow you…”

He struggled with his happiness for a moment, dimples on his cheeks and lines on his forehead appearing as he held it back. Then it all came out in a wet laugh as he took my hand and then pulled me in for a quick embrace.

“I will…help…as I can...”

By now the fight had moved on without us. Nearly a hundred yards off, men and orc and all manner of other vile beast clashed. Viorith found a snapped pole arm that would serve well as a walking stick. Getting a firm grip on his sword, he looked back to me and said, “Stay close, and I shall watch over you, sister.”

I nodded.

Moving was a struggle for me. Every breath was difficult and only grew worse as we hurried across the field strewn with the dead. It did not take the orcs long to notice two horseless riders. Blackened spittle ran out from between their barred teeth as they thought of killing. I hefted my sword in my hand, threw away the stick and took a stance leaning heavily on my good leg.

“Come on then you ugly bastards!” Viorith called.

The first to break off and make a move headed for Viorith. The next, me. More followed, egging each other on in orcish. I feinted to my left, sending a shooting pain from my hip up to my ribs, slashing with my short sword when the orc took the bait. Viorith blocked blow after blow. It seemed he knew more than I originally assumed. Had he been practicing without anyone knowing? Had he slipped out after everyone in the orphanage went to sleep?

The orc I had been facing suddenly caught me off guard, first slamming his fist into my chest very close to my broken ribs, and when I doubled over in agony, brought down the pommel of his sword across my cheek. The bone fragments attached haphazardly tore the skin on my cheek. In the next instant, my face was in the dirt, my helmet gone. Gasping, I flipped over onto my back and saw the orc bearing down, clutching his bleeding wound. As he made to run me through, I turned at the last minute, curling away from the blade. It nicked my side. But he’d left himself open. I thrust up under his arm just enough that he fell upon my blade himself.

“Valene!”

Viorith had just killed his own foe and had seen the orc attacking me fall over dead. Skidding next to my prone form, he glanced worriedly over his shoulder. I coughed and spluttered as my vision swam. When my hand came away, I saw blood and felt it drip down my chin.

“Valene!” my brother called again, this time more urgently.

I realized that I had not answered him. Grunting, I rolled onto my better side and pushed myself up. I did not have the breath to speak. As I lifted my gaze, I caught sight of three orc archers knocking arrows. They were pointed right at Viorith and me.

Whatever words I tried to shout only came out as a faint whimper the instant before the arrows were loosed. Whistling punctuated the air. I blinked just as the projectile slammed into me and suddenly, I was on my back. A burning pain came from my chest. Lifting my head with great effort and tipping my chin down, I saw the shaft of an arrow sunk deep, close to where my heart beat like a trapped bird.

“V-Viorith… _wheeze_ …Viorith…? Answer me!” I called.

He was on the ground a few feet away, an arrow punched through his calf. An odd gurgling sound came from where he lay and he began spasming and jerking about. It felt like the whole of me fell away, leaving a raw, exposed center. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying out as I forced myself into a sitting position. Ignoring the intense pain, I clawed my way to him.

He lay curled on his side, both of his hands clutching at his arm or his chest, I could not tell. Tugging on the front of his armor to get a better look at where he was hurt, my mind went blank with shock. My brother clutched at his neck. It made little difference stopping the blood from gushing between his fingers. One of his hands released his wound and gripped around my fingers so tightly that I felt a crack. A desperate but silent cry for help.

“I…I have you,” I whispered, hands shaking as I struggled to pull him closer.

The blood would not stop.

“Val–…Val–” he choked desperately, pleading for help with his tear-filled eyes. The vein in his forehead had become engorged from fighting so fiercely to breathe.

“I have you,” I wept, stroking the side of his face.

All at once his body writhed against me as if I was holding his head underwater. Panic made him flail. I held on, sobbing. I needed to be with him until the end.

In an effort to put him at ease, I leaned close and started singing quietly, like I would when we were children:

_One fine morning I chanced out to roam,_

_And strolled through the fields by the side of the grove._

_It was there I did hear the harmless birds sing_

_And you never heard so sweet as the birds in the spring._

_At the end of the grove I sat myself down_

_And the song of the nightingale echoed all ‘round._

_Their song was so charming, their notes were so clear,_

_No music, no songster can with them compare._

_All you that come here, the small birds to hear,_

_I’ll have you pay attention, so pray all draw near._

_And, when you’re growing old, you will have this to say,_

_That you never heard so sweet as the birds on that day._

The melody passed through my trembling lips, thin and broken. Whether it took some of his pain away or not, I could not tell. Tears welled up in his eyes and fell as he gurgled and thrashed against me. Before I made it even halfway through, his strength faded. He stopped pushing me away, his eyes became dull, and then he ceased to move.

The song died with him. I pressed my forehead against his, shutting my eyes tightly.

“You promised…you promised…” I sobbed. “You would not be brave…”

A deep, aching pain boiled up, pulsating under my skin like jagged glass as I wept over his limp body. The world around me began to spin. I collapsed next to my brother, my breathing labored and wet. I could fight no longer. Why should I?

As my own breathing slowed, I cracked my eyes open and looked at Viorith’s face staring blankly at the overcast sky. The whites of his eyes were red. Blood still trickled sluggishly from his blue lips and out of his neck. He was so pale.

My attention shifted as movement over his shoulder caught my eye. The battle had moved on once again, leaving a trail of bodies in its wake. Was Eowyn still alive? I thought of when we stood in the tent back at camp after changing into our armor. She had looked so fierce and beautiful.

_For Rohan_ , she had said. And I had said it back.

I have to find her.

“Get up,” I told myself through gritted teeth. I could taste blood in my mouth.

With thoughts of Eowyn and my promise to look out for her as my beacon, I slowly rose to my feet.

Before I left, I looked down at my brother and whispered, “I _will_ be with you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the sadness! I will see you next week for another update!


	12. Athelas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valene struggles to recover after the Battle of Pelennor Fields, but the battle for Middle Earth isn't over. How will this affect her relationship with Legolas?

It seemed I walked for what felt like miles. The battle ahead continually out of my reach. I kept telling myself that I could not stop. Not until I found Eowyn. But with each step, my body and mind grew increasingly weak. In my delirium the faces of the dead around me rose from the ground and transformed into that of Aeriador and my brother. I looked around at them, fresh tears coursing down my cheeks and whispered how sorry I was, begging them not to take me.

“Valene!”

Turning toward the faint sound of the voice proved to be too difficult a task for my wound wearied body. The toe of my boot dragged along the ground, sending me off balance. I collapsed to my knees. The sound of footfall approached. Blinking heavily, I looked up into the face of Eomer. His deep brown eyes were wide with a mix of surprise and anger. I could see his lips moving, but sound had faded away. The edges of my vision darkened as the spot on my chest where the broken shaft of the arrow protruded throbbed suddenly. The world tipped over. I barely felt as my back thudded against the ground.

Eomer reached my side, mouthing my name. A violent cough ripped from my chest. The pain of my muscles contracting around my broken ribs came up and out over my lips as bloody liquid, like mist from a waterfall. My brother choking on his own blood flashed in front of my eyes. Panic had me coughing even more. I gasped, clawing at my throat.

My vision was starting to shrink. All I could focus on was Eomer’s lips as they gently parted and came together. I had to tell him that his sister was on the battle field alone. That I had broken my promise to him.

“Eowyn…find…find…Eo–” I coughed, blindly clutching at him. My voice sounded as if I was underwater. His hands took hold of my shoulders and shook me. I felt my mind drifting away from my body; deep into nothingness.

Dark shapes slipped through the negative space around me. Whispering. Hissing. I could not distinguish the words, but I felt the sickly emptiness they created within me.

A delicate scent perfumed the air. Drawing me out. It reminded me of days spent eating raspberries and watching spring rains. Happy times. Then the smell dissipated, replaced with the stink of long dried blood and maggot infested wounds. Frozen hands lurched out of the darkness, tearing at my face and arms, trying to drag me down into the pits where their dead bodies lay festering. I could not open my eyes no matter how hard I tried.

**_You killed us_** , Aeriador’s voice hissed in my ear. **_Your brother and me_**.

I whimpered. My lips would not part to form words. To tell him how sorry I was.

Viorith screamed in agony right next to my ear. I could hear someone else sobbing nearby. Fingers curled into my skin and hair, pulling me down.

**_You should have died with us_**.

“…lene…?”

A new voice brightened the emptieness around me, like the moon on a cloudless night. I wrenched away from the cold hands clinging, using the new light as a beacon to follow. When I tried opening my eyes, they fluttered slightly, but remained stubbornly closed. Internally I screamed in terror and frustration. I couldn’t get away from the grasping dead hands.

“Valene…?”

A gasp rattled from my chest as I came awake. Tendrils of smoke filled the air above where I lay, chasing away the nightmare with the aroma of fresh flowers. I blinked slowly. A blurred figure leaned over me. All I could make out were lips moving. Eomer’s lips. He was not who I had been hoping to see.

All at once my vision came into sharp clarity, my ears picked up the sounds of wounded men groaning nearby. They echoed hollowly like I was still in the pit of death. Sharp, painful breaths of air rushed into my lungs as my eyes frantically glanced around. For a moment, as the nightmare clung to my senses, I thought I was still on the field. Where was Eowyn?

“Calm yourself,” Eomer commanded gently, his hands pressing me back onto the bed.

A bone rattling cough erupted from my dry throat. No blood filled my mouth, but burning pain constricted over my chest and my ribs. Everything throbbed under swollen skin. I groaned in pain and tried to do as he asked. My eyes roamed once more. I was in some sort of stone chamber.

Working what little saliva remained around in my mouth, I struggled my chapped lips apart and asked, “Eowyn?”

“We found her.”

A tear of relief fell from the corner of my eye, down my temple, and into my matted hair.

“She has been asking for you these past two days,” Eomer continued quietly.

Opening my eyes and looking up into his concerned face again I asked, “What…what happened?”

“Minas Tirith is safe once more. The orcs, the oliphaunts, and trolls; defeated.”

I let out a relieved sigh, exhaustion quickly rising up to swallow me.

I don’t know how long I slept for. When I next woke, the sun was gone. Only silvery moonlight came in through the windows, illuminating the smoothly carved pale stone of the room. The wind that had blown so bracingly the day of the battle had gone. Pale light of the waxing moon shone through the windows, casting a ghostly light on my pale form in the darkness. It was still, serene. Like an undisturbed pond. The strong scent from the bowl of herbs wafted up. It’s aroma of orchard blossoms in sunshine circled me like a comforting blanket, keeping the sadness that lurked within at bay. The gentle touch of cool fingertips against my hand roused me further from sleep.

Blinking away the blurriness that still clung to my eyes, I looked up into the last face I expected to see. My jaw dropped open and a faint sound of surprise left my dry throat. Legolas’ pale blue eyes held my gaze as he gently lifted the edge of a cup to my lips.

“Drink,” he commanded softly.

I did. Mostly out of reflex.

As he lay me down, I whispered incredulously, “You left.”

He looked away from my accusing stare. What brought him back? Guilt? Cowardice? It was hard to think that of him, but as I lay there unmoving, pain pulsing with every breath, I could not help it.

“How are you here?” I asked more directly when he still would not look at or answer me.

When he abandoned us to go with Aragorn, it hurt. More than I had allowed myself to believe. The fact that he had not even said goodbye…had the bond we shared been my imagination? Of course, it had been. I was a fool. A servant. A human peasant. Why should he care? Who could care-

Legolas finally turned back, his hands finding my own. It was as if he could see the painful thoughts, like they were written plain on my face. I took in a shuddering breath, realizing that my mind had spun down a dark path against my control. His dark brows creased together in concern as he continued studying my face.

“We came when we could,” he finally said. “I followed Aragorn to the Dwimorberg.”

“The…the Haunted Mountain?”

I had heard ghost stories of it as a child. Even some as an adult. It featured in many a late-night campfire tale. Of course, no one would ever dream of actually going there. Those that did rarely came back. And yet, here he was in front of me.

Legolas nodded, a strand of his silver hair falling out of place.

“Gimli and I went with Aragorn to call upon the force slumbering there.” He explained. “I wish I had made the time to find you and tell you, now that I see you like this.”

His fingers tightened around my own. It hurt but I dared not speak. He was thinking about the conversation we’d had outside Rohan’s walls. That seemed like eons ago now.

“You doing something so dangerous…I did not think it a possibility, not after Helm’s Deep.”

His thumb traced a line along my hand, stopping to rub around the tender skin of a small cut on my wrist.

“It was to protect Lady Eowyn.”

Suddenly he let go. The warmth of his hands vanished as he drew back. The small movement hurt. Guilt washed over me. I dug my fingertips into the rough spun blanket over my chest as I thought of my brother; the sound of him choking on his own blood. That had happened because of me. If I hadn’t gone with Eowyn…Legolas was right to think badly of me.

Hot, fresh tears clouded my vision. I shook with the effort of keeping silent. Why did Legolas not leave? He said what he came to. He should go.

“Valene?”

The sound of the elf’s concerned voice only made my pain worse. I sobbed, turning my head away from him in an attempt to hide my shame. A darkness was creeping in at the corners of my vision and a heaviness in my chest was making breathing a chore.

“What pains you?” Legolas asked, at my side again.

As soon as I felt the cool of his fingers against my arm, I recoiled, curling away from him. In a voice that was not my own I hissed, “Do not touch me!”

Voices from the dark came up, familiar but laced with the sharp edges of blades. All at once they started whispering to me again. Horrible but true things. They grew and grew until they were solid and in the room. The one next to my ear, that sounded so much like my brother, urged me to rise from my bed; told me to throw myself from the nearest window. It was right. It was what I deserved. But I could not move. My injuries were too great.

As if in response, my chest tightened once more. The spot where the orc arrow had struck me pulsed with a blinding, white-hot pain. I gasped for breath and thrashed wildly when my supply of air was suddenly gone.

“Stop, Valene!” Legolas’ voice came again, as if he were on the other side of glass.

Suddenly the strong smell of wildflowers and dew-coated mornings wafted over me. Like a silken cloth it gently settled on my skin. Wheezing, I blinked away the last traces of the shadow that had rendered me blind. Legolas knelt above me, pinning me to the bed by the arms. Sweat fell from my brow to the pillow beneath my head as I looked up into his face. Under that cool exterior of his, I could see fear.

Once he could see that I had returned to my senses, he moved back slightly. Not saying a word, he reached to the bedside table and took up a simple wooden bowl filled with crushed herbs. I did not recognize it, but it was where the smell was coming from. The same scent that had chased back the dark thoughts from my mind these last few days.

He untied the front of my thin gown; in one fluid movement he sat at my side and tugged the cloth down as far as my waist. I was too exhausted to be embarrassed. I watched as he peeled away the bandages. Panic swelled at the sight that was revealed. The hole where the arrow had pierced, had started to scab over with darkened blood, but under that, unnatural black lines twisted away. They were starting to curl up toward my neck and down across my breast and ribs. Scooping some paste from another bowl out, he gently applied as much as he could on and around the wound.

I whimpered, both in pain and to the shock of the cold. Eventually his probing fingers found my other wounds and applied the herbs to those as well. All was silent aside from my labored breaths. Finally, he drew away. My body felt sickly. Like I’d just finished running from dawn until dusk and now sat chilled in my own sweat.

“You were poisoned by an Orc arrow,” he explained softly, his voice carrying easily in the empty stone room. “Athelas brings those tainted by shadow back to the light.”

I had no energy to think further. With great effort, I turned my head and gazed at his form standing near the wash basin a little way away. With my head pleasantly muddled and full of the sweet smell of flowers, I allowed myself to be relieved that he was here. He was like a smooth river stone compared to my rough edges being beaten by the raging waters around us.

I asked weakly, “Stay…?”

His body tensed. I could see the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching as his eyes searched my own. Eventually, he stepped closer.

I kept still, waiting.

Finally, he closed the distance. I let out a small, shaking breath and closed my eyes in relief. Everything ached with exhaustion, but I opened my eyes once more to watch as he sat on the bed next to me and took up my hands. Small tears left thin trails down the side of my face as I tried squeezing his fingers with my own. Slowly, I let myself drift to sleep.

When my eyes opened again, I found that the room had become brighter. Warm sunlight streamed in through the windows. I glanced around but saw no sign of Legolas. Of course, he was gone. Why should he stay?

There was a man in the room that took notice of my return to consciousness. The healer strode up and asked kindly, “Awake now, are ye?”

He lay the wide palm of his hand against my damp forehead, tutting in disapproval. Going to the washbasin he poured fresh water into a small bowl and said, “Yer fever broke sometime in the night, but yer still a touch warm fer my likin’. I’ll see about gettin’ you somethin’ substantial to sip on, how’s that sound?”

I did feel better. My body was still sluggish and ached, but my mind was clearer.

As the healer dabbed a cool cloth along my warm skin, I asked, “Where is-?”

“Oh, yer Lord Elf was summoned to a meetin’ with that wizard,” the healer cut in, proceeding to talk dreamily of Legolas and his command of herbs.

A bit later, a young servant girl came by with a tray full of steaming bowls of broth. The healer took one and thanked her before helping me into a sitting position. Getting anything into my belly was difficult. It felt as though it had shrunk to the size of a pebble. The healer assured me that was normal, but that I would be right as rain soon. I thanked him for the trouble of looking after me before settling back down onto the bed. Sitting up for that amount of time had drained me.

My mind drifted in and out of consciousness until the shadows from the sun had traveled to the other side of the room. As I attempted sitting up for one more round of broth, I heard a knock at the door. The healer bustled over to answer. His squeak of surprise and pleasure made me look up. There, leaning heavily against her brother, was Eowyn.

“My Lady!” I cried, tears of joy welling up.

With Eomer’s help, she slowly stepped into the room. The smile she sent my way was enough to make me sob openly with happiness.

“I am so glad to see you well,” I continued, wiping at my face with the back of my hand.

Eomer set her gently on the bed beside me. She leant forward, still looking lovely under all the bruises and cuts, and said earnestly, “As am I, dear sister.”

Glancing up at her brother, she took my hand in hers and continued, “I have much to tell you.”

And she did. Starting from our separation on the battlefield she spoke of encountering the Witch King. Where her Uncle, the King, had been slain.

“He has gone to be with his son,” she whispered thickly, her small frame trembling. Eomer reached out and gripped her shoulder. She gave him a small, sad smile in return. It pained her to speak of, let alone think about. I quickly said that she had no obligation to tell me anymore.

To lighten the mood, she informed me of yesterday morning spent with Merry and his cousin Pippin. She said that it had lifted all their spirits to spend some time in each other’s company despite not speaking overmuch. Pippin in fact gave Eowyn a gift just before leaving their room. Pulling her aside he presented her with a small book of questionable origin, that he said was in exchange for her watching over Merry.

“You rest, and I shall read some of it to you,” she said, pressing me down.

Her clear voice filled the room, making it feel even warmer than before. Glancing at Eomer, I noticed his deep brown eyes watching me. I smiled up at him faintly, my eyelids drooping. I was powerless to keep them open.

I woke sometime in the night, startled by a quickly forgotten dream. A candle burned in the corner of the room, casting a warm glow across the stone. When I tried coming fully awake, the heady scent of wildflowers rushed up. I settled back, wishing for Legolas’ company. As my eyes closed, I found myself calling out his name.

Two days passed in fitful sleep. Each time my eyes opened I felt myself grow stronger. But still Legolas did not return. It saddened me, but I could not say that I did not expect as much. That did nothing to dissuade my mind from thinking of him. I missed his voice that sounded like music even when not singing. I missed his unfaltering strength that he carried like a cloak made of untouchable starlight.

All the people that I loved were gone. Even Eowyn to an extent was no longer herself. Though we were still close, I could feel an invisible rift between us.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of Pippin lightly choking on a piece of bread from the tray of food he and his cousin brought to share with me.

“It’s quite good to see you recovering so well,” Merry commented happily, puffing on a long-stemmed pipe.

I returned his smile.

Pippin suddenly snatched the pipe from between Merry’s lips and scolded, “You’ll not be smoking any more ‘til tomorrow! You heard the healer.”

“C’mon Pip!” Merry cried indignantly.

“You seem to be on the mend as well,” I laughed as Pippin huffed and stormed to the other side of the room to tap the ashes from the pipe out of the window.

“Oh, yes,” Merry sighed sarcastically. “Being around Pip is just the sort of company I needed to feel right at home.”

Still smiling, I proposed reading to them for a short time. Pippin had presented me with my own book when they had first arrived. A small leather-bound one with golden lettering on the front cover that was slightly scorched.

We spent quite some time relaxing, talking and eating. Eventually though, they grew tired and we parted ways. I however felt my mind was abuzz with restless thoughts. The decision to get out of my room came to me quickly, and when the healer had disappeared down the hall to tend to the other ill or injured, I slipped out. Favoring my side considerably, I limped toward the largest of the healing chambers. A soft buzz rose up as I went through the open doors. Dozens upon dozens of men and women lay in cots. Not just soldiers but civilians that had been caught up in the violence. Eyes followed me curiously as I made my way to an empty stool next to a young woman not much older than myself, whose face was badly burned.

“Might I keep you company a while?” I asked, resting my hand against the pillow next to her bandaged cheek.

She blinked and made a welcoming sound. I started reading. Soon, other men and women had gathered to listen to the story. It was about an ancient king and the trials he had had to endure to gain his kingdom back from evil hands. Part way through I noticed a steady stream of tears soaking into the young woman’s bandages. It was not the physical pain. What I saw in her eyes was regret, sadness, and anger. But as the tears fell, those feelings slowly fell away to reveal a faint glimmer of happiness. A young man missing the lower half of one arm reached out with his remaining hand and took hers in his own.

Gradually, as the light faded from the windows, the patients went back to their beds for rest. Even I grew too tired to turn the pages. I left the hall as quietly as I’d come. The healer scolded me for leaving without a word, but decided not to drag me back to bed once he discovered me in the hall practicing good works. I smiled appreciatively and allowed him to help me to my bed and tuck me in tightly.

I gazed out the nearest window, my mind emptying. I watched as the clouds in the sky slowly transitioned from pale yellow and orange into pinks and purples. Just as they were darkening back to a dull grey, the door to the room opened. Eomer and Legolas entered, one after the other. For a brief second, I saw the taught line in both of their jaws as they came to my bedside.

Eomer, noticing the question on my brow, smiled and asked, “The healers said something about you reading to the men earlier today?”

“Yes,” I nodded, glancing at Legolas out of the corner of my eye. He had remained sullen since coming in. “I felt well enough.”

“That’s good to hear.” Eomer said, curiously peering at Legolas as well.

The sound of heavy footfall approached. The three of us looked up just as a young Gondorian soldier came dashing in. His cloak swirled about his legs as he breathlessly checked our faces. Confusion knitted his brows together as he asked unsurely, “Lord Eomer?”

I supposed they did look similar. Though the ears should have been a giveaway. Perhaps the young man was flustered from having just been running. Eomer turned and nodded, dark brows raising in question. The young man stood at attention and said, “You are being summoned by the Steward of Gondor to the war room.”

Muttering something under his breath, Eomer gave another jerk of his chin to signify that he understood. The young man was gone in a flash. Turning back to me Eomer bowed deeply, “Duty calls. Forgive my short visit, but I will come again.”

“That would make me very happy.”

He strode to my side, took up my hand and placed a swift kiss to my knuckles. Giving me a warm, lingering smile, he headed to the door. Muttering a curt farewell to Legolas as he passed him, Eomer slipped out into the hall. When the sound of his boots on the stone could no longer be heard, I looked up at the elf who had not moved or spoken since entering. Most likely he was still upset. Perhaps even more so now that I had left my room without anyone knowing. Sneaking out of my room most likely reminded him of the fact that I had also snuck into the army for a second time. My fingers wound into the rough fabric of the blanket tucked around my midriff, fidgeting with a loose strand as I waited for him to speak.

His pale blue eyes ceaselessly looked me over. But still his mouth remained pinched into a thin line.

“Valene, I must tell you something.” He muttered finally.

The color drained from my face. Every part of his body was tense. Whatever it was, it was something important. I motioned to the stool next to my bedside. He glanced in its direction for a moment before disregarding it. Instead he paced in a wide arch around the room, coming to rest at the window that looked out across the Pelennor Fields far, far below.

Clenching his hands, he continued, “Aragorn called a meeting today with myself, others of the fellowship, and the new Steward.”

I remained silent, unsure of what he was getting at.

“Too much evil walks Sauron’s lands in Mordor,” he continued. “Frodo has no chance of making it to Mount Doom if we do not provide him the chance.”

“What…what can you do from here?” I asked, voice trembling.

Turning from the window, he fixed his gaze on me and struggled to put the explanation into words. I could see him willing me to understand so he would not have to say anything. It worried me. I struggled into a sitting position, my anxiety not allowing me to stay down. He crossed the room in three long strides and reached out to help me up.

After a long pause he explained, “We must take our forces to the Black Gates. In order to draw Sauron’s gaze and forces upon us.”

All the blood fell away from my head. It was as if it left my body entirely. He couldn’t be serious. They would all be killed. Numbly, I shook my head back and forth in protest, but was unable to speak. My voice had disappeared along with any feeling in my body. I was startled by the sudden appearance of white-hot tears coursing down my cheeks in a thick stream. I barely felt his hands on my shoulders.

“You cannot go,” I mumbled thickly, shaking my head back and forth in protest. “You’ll be killed.”

There were too many in Mordor. What little of Gondor and Rohan remained would be overtaken in a moment. A vision of his broken body lying sprawled across a sea of dead rose up. Blood coated every inch of him. All I could see were his pale eyes clouded over in death, staring at me accusingly.

Panic flooded my body making it tremble, so I dug my fingertips into his forearms and insisted, “You cannot go! There will be no one left if I lose you!”

My throat ached as my voice rose in volume. I was nearly shouting hysterically.

Trying to calm me, he adjusted his position to kneel on the bed and pull my struggling form close. With my cheek crushed against his solid chest he held me tight. There was nothing he could say that could make this better, and he knew it. He had shattered my already broken heart. 

Shoving at him, I shouted, “You cannot sacrifice yourself!”

I felt something by my ribs crunch in protest to my movements. It became difficult to breathe again, but I continued fighting against his hold. Holding me by the crook of my neck and the small of my back he muttered into my hair, “This is what must be done to save Middle Earth form the darkness that threatens it.”

“Then I go with you!”

“No!” his commanding voice came as a surprise, just as his crushing embrace forced me to be still. “Valene…you cannot.”

His fingers gripped my chin, forcing my head back so I looked up into his face. A fire burned in his eyes. It stopped my heart for one long, painful moment. I tried looking away but he forced my attention back on him by saying, “The thought of you in harm’s way fills me with terror unlike any I have felt before.”

Locked together, panting, I realized that this was the most passionate I’d ever seen the normally calm and collected elf. Legolas tangled his fingers into my hair and continued, “When I learned you were here so close to death–…Valene, swear that you will not follow me to the Black Gates.”

We clutched at each other, both silently willing the other to give in. Exhaustion was slowly sapping me of what little energy I had been holding on to. Legolas supported most of my weight as I continued crying and weakly thumping him on the chest with my fists.

“I cannot say I will come back to you, but I want you to wait for me.” He breathed, pressing his cheek against the side of my head. “If I know that you are here – safe – I can go to meet my fate in peace. Swear that you will stay.”

What he wanted fell over me completely, like standing under a waterfall. Part of me wished to continue to refuse. I could not sit back and watch as he rode to what could only be his inevitable doom. But then I felt him trembling against me. I had not noticed while I had been struggling.

By now night had fallen. His pale skin and hair glowed with the traces of star light coming in through the windows. As I sat there, being held by the elven prince, I came to the realization that despite my strong desire to continue fighting, I knew I would be going to my own death if I did. Not that that mattered much to me at this point, but it mattered to him. My life held meaning in his eyes.

“I swear,” I whispered. “But in return you must swear me something.”

He nodded.

“Believe to the deepest part of your heart that you will return; fight with all the strength you can muster.”

Taking a shuddering breath, I looked up into his face and waited.

Lifting one hand to cup my jaw, Legolas suddenly stooped catching my lips with his. Surprise kept my eyes open as his lips moved against mine. I stared in shock at his long lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks. Just as I started feeling light-headed, we came apart.

As he broke away from the kiss he said breathlessly, “I give you my word, and I take this favor with me so I will not soon forget it.”

Gazing up at him, a fresh wave of sadness overwhelmed me, tinged with a bitter note of joy. He muttered my name, drawing me against him. I leant heavily, letting my head fall onto his shoulder and nestle into the crook of his neck. He spoke to me in elvish, slowly coaxing me into lying down, careful not to further aggravate my injuries. It was as if he were casting a spell over me. My eyelids drooped, my body became heavy, and soon I was drifting into unconsciousness. I gripped his hand in my own and willed myself to resist sleep. He would be gone in the morning to fight an unwinnable battle. But sleep I did, and woke just as the sun was starting to lighten the sky outside.

I rose from my cot. Slipping into suitable clothes, I crept out of the Houses of Healing and out into the city. It was cold. A wind began to stir again as I climbed a flight of broken and charred stairs. At the top I braced myself, panting, against the stone ledge and peered out across the Pelennor Fields where hundreds upon hundreds of orc bodies still lay strewn about.

The rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, dispelling the darkness and casting a blue blush across the white mountaintops. I could see the army assembling far below clearly, their armor catching the light and glinting up at where I stood. Their mustering did not take long. It seemed they’d gotten started even before dawn had broken. At last the sound of horns blowing echoed across the valley and the soldiers began to move. Troop by troop, they wheeled and went off eastward. The last glint of the morning sun on spear and helm twinkled and was lost, and still I remained clutching the stone wall.

After everything that I had lost these past weeks, seeing the army, with Legolas somewhere amidst their numbers disappear from sight, was painful. I remained on my high perch, head bowed and heart heavy. A cold wind rose running straight through me. I felt weak, clutching the wound in my chest, unable to stop the thin stream of tears coursing down my cheeks.

Sometime later, I was found. Guards brought the healer up to where I sat curled up against the wall, shivering.

“There you are!” he called, rousing me from the waking dream I had been trapped in. “Your bones must be ‘alf frozen! Come along then, up you get.”

Those that were left in the city waited solemnly, with eyes turned to the mountains where the men would be heading. When I felt despair creeping up, the pain in my chest would return and I would seek out distraction in company. I read to the injured, and spoke with Eowyn.

“What days these few have been,” Eowyn muttered, her piercing eyes locked on the billowing dark clouds to the east. “It seems so long since the army rode away.”

Eomer was with them. I could see him in the forefront of her mind. She and I both seemed to keep losing people we loved to this war. We had to keep our spirits up though. Like she said, if they fail, we would have to be the ones to lead the people. To be strong.

“What of this man you met? Can you tell me more of him?” I asked as we sat in the royal gardens.

Instantly her expression softened. He was mentioned passingly the last time we saw each other. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she turned her gaze toward the flower bed next to us.

“He is by right, the Steward of Gondor. I sought his company the other day in preparation of Aragorn’s march on Mordor.” She explained. “I was being impatient. The city still needed looking after, so I found him here in the gardens and confronted him with my thoughts on how to proceed.

“I did not care for him at first. He called me fair and beautiful and wished me to walk with him while we waited for reports to be sent up to us. But as we walked and spoke, I grew to understand him a little better. He is…gentle.”

“I hope to meet him someday soon,” I smiled.

“We are to meet this afternoon. Please join if you are feeling up to it.”

I shook my head with a gracious smile, “No my Lady, I should not want to disturb important matters with my presence.”

The garden door burst open before she had the chance to argue with me. A footman came barreling in, eyes wide and searching. When they fell on Eowyn, he made a beeline for her and called breathlessly, “Aragorn is victorious! The Dark Tower has been cast asunder!”

Joy propelled me to my feet. My mouth hung open in shock as I glanced from the messenger to Eowyn in quick succession. It seemed as though everything looked a little brighter. As I looked out across the Pelennor Fields to the far distance where the waters of the river Anduin shone like a ribbon of silver. Clutching the aching spot on my chest where the arrow had pierced, I wondered if Legolas was safe.

The people of Minas Tirith took to the streets of their broken city, filling it with song, color, and laughter. Festivities began and lasted until the next morning when word came that the army had been spotted on the road. Thousands gathered on the main street, from the broken gates all the way through the city, leaving enough room in the middle for the warriors to make their triumphant return. I – as well as a large number of other wounded – waited near the Houses of Healing. Children dashed by, playing merrily.

My fingers picked endlessly at the edge of my sleeves as I waited. An hour passed before any of us caught sight of armor glinting victoriously in the afternoon sun. A cacophonous cheer rippled through the crowd as handfuls of petals were scattered on the wind. The first person I recognized was Lord Aragorn, worn and bloodied but alive. In that moment, he looked more a King than any man I had ever seen before. His midnight blue tunic and filigreed armor radiated power, and the band running along his brow hinted at what a crown should look like if it were in its stead.

Next, I saw Merry and Pippin with two more hobbits by their side. Both had deep shadows under their eyes and nearly disappeared into the rags draped over their scrawny shoulders. The one with darker hair, despite all that, looked as though he felt lighter than air. He sat limply in his saddle, cradling a bandaged hand to his chest and smiling with tears in his eyes. That must be Frodo. I thought back to when Legolas had spoken of him to me in Rohan. Seeing him now I understood why he spoke of such a small person with such respect.

A sudden movement from behind the hobbits caught my attention. Craning my neck, I searched. There, like a beacon in a storm, Legolas appeared. It seemed he’d already seen me and had swung down off his horse. His head of silver hair bobbed up and down as he made his way through the crowd. An embarrassed flush rose to my cheeks, but I did the same, pushing gently against shoulders so I could meet him.

His companions had paused in their march to look after where their friend had gone. Hundreds of eyes watched as we finally came face to face. Breathless, he scanned me up and down and said, “You look as if you would break if I were to touch you.”

“I will not!” I cried happily, rushing forward. Wrapping my arms around his midriff, I buried my face in his chest.

“You were all I thought of.” He breathed into my hair, holding me against his body as if I would disappear on the wind.

In one swift move that felt familiar and practiced, he tipped my chin up and caught my lips with his own. Small gasps and disbelieving cheers rose up around us. No longer did I feel like an inferior human compared to him. No longer did I doubt what I felt. I allowed myself to be in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long update!!! Let me know if you liked it!! And I hope you all are staying safe and healthy out there! Lots of love!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! If you're reading this, then you may be interested in reading more! I will update every Sunday until I am done. Love you all! Happy days!! <3


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